Second Chances
by Ride4Ruin
Summary: Four convicts, sentenced to die for their crimes against the Kingdom, have been given one last chance to redeem themselves. There's just one problem, they first have to resist the overwhelming urge to kill each other.
1. The Dirty Dozen

AN (2/11/08): The setting is an original one, though it uses some core DnD bits (like the pantheon). Maps of Halcyon and the capitol city of Vandia are up on deviant art, a link to each can be found on my profile page. It's not much but I found it helped when I constructed the setting. A timeline of the history of Halcyon can also be found on my profile page.

The Kingdom of Halcyon is a (sort of) medieval kingdom and while the capital city of Vandia is a bustling metropolis, most of the population lives in more rural settlements. It is bordered on the east by the Eldanari Commonwealth, a predominantly elven nation, and on the west by territory occupied by the Bellicosians. Mountains lie to the south and an ocean to the north. Magic does exist, though it is not particularly common in Halcyon (it is much more common in the neighboring Commonwealth) for reasons that will become apparent later in the story.

Oh, and about The Major and his seriously out of whack moral compass, think of it like this: In Knights of the Old Republic, the average bystander does not differentiate between Jedi and Sith. To them, the two are just different names for the same thing, a crazy wizard who can move things with their mind and dice people up with a lightsaber. Likewise, the people of Halcyon don't differentiate between the stereotypical Paladin (referred to as the 'Paladin of Honor' in Unearthed Arcana) and people like The Major, despite differences in morality. Both can do things like smite people with divine power, discern lies, summon fancy mounts, etc.

Chapter One: The Dirty Dozen__

"Doesn't give me anything. But along with these results, it gives you just about the most twisted, anti-social bunch of psychopathic deformities I have ever run into!" – Captain Kinder

"Well, I can't think of a better way to fight a war." – Major Reisman, in response to the above observation

Carlos Montoya scratched his chin. The iron manacles that bound his wrists together clanked and rattled as he did so, drawing glances from the three others who sat in the cells next to his. He hadn't had a chance to shave since the authorities had thrown him in the stockade and dark brown stubble already covered his chin, cheeks, and upper lip. The cell he sat in was little more than a simple iron cage with one side up against a stone wall. Each of the cells were lined up one after the next and only separated from each other by the bars, offering little in the way of privacy. In retrospect it could have been worse, he could have been rotting in a pillory out on the streets of Vandia, barraged constantly by rocks and rotting vegetables.

He scowled. Though that may have been true, it certainly didn't help ease the former farmer's mind. He leaned his head back and let out a despondent sigh. Things had been going so well, how did it come to this? He had finally found a job doing something other than growing crops that never sold well in the first place, and he had been good at it too.

Though he had never thought of himself as some brave warrior or noble paladin, he was strong, the result of years of toil on the family farm, and something of a natural with a blade. Carlos had figured that he might as well exploit that and for a while working as a sword for hire had gone more or less smoothly.

Then he had met her.

He looked through the bars of his cell at the inhabitant of the cage next to his. The woman in it had, at first, appeared to be a completely innocent, honest, and likable person. Carlos realized now, however, that he had been mistaken to trust her. The farmer turned fighter silently cursed himself for being so naive. Then again, what could he have done? When a sweet brunette asks for your help and offers to pay you handsomely for it, you accept right? Turns out "help" meant working as muscle to protect a shipment that he discovered had contained powerful, and highly illegal, narcotics only after he had been beaten to a pulp and arrested. It also turned out that the "sweet brunette" had been an up and coming wizard named Sarah Griffon, the alchemist who had brewed the stuff up in the first place, and was perhaps the single most disagreeable person he had ever met even including the scores of thieves, thugs, and mercenaries – all of whom had been out to kill him – he had faced off against over the years.

Carlos glanced in her direction. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this." He nearly spat the words at her.

She glared back at him defiantly, her eyes attempting to bore a hole in his head. "Oh shut up. It's not my fault we're sitting in a glorified petting zoo."

"You could have at least told me what I was guarding."

The woman threw her hands up into the air. "Yes, yes, I should have run around blabbing to complete strangers that I had a caravan of the most powerful opiates in all of Halcyon that I need moved." The sarcasm in her voice was about as subtle as a club to the face. "You're right, of course. How silly of me."

One of the guards that stood outside of the cells banged his mailed fist against the bars and the sudden clang brought the argument to an abrupt halt. "Quiet. Both of you."

In the silence that followed Carlos noticed the sound of music had begun drifting through the stale air. He turned around, searching for the source, and saw it in one of the other cells. A wiry, middle-aged man with short, jet-black hair, two cells down in the opposite direction from Sarah, lay on his cot and was whistling a surprisingly upbeat tune for a prisoner. He looked to see if the guard had noticed this as well and found that while he had, he didn't seem to care.

Between the cell with the whistling man and Carlos' was another inmate, a woman, who sat on the far side of her cell with her legs drawn up close to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. The sparkling in the corner of her sky blue eyes hinted that she was on the verge of tears.

Carlos felt a great swell of pity for the woman. She was short and slender, far to slight to be a normal human, and was obviously not used to this kind of situation. He craned his neck to get a better look at her and quickly confirmed his suspicions. She had long, elegant ears that swept back along with her dirty blonde hair. He felt for a moment that perhaps he should try to say something to comfort the elf, but a loud bang cut short both that line of thought and the whistling that pervaded the air.

The door to the cellblock had swung open and in stepped a large man, nearly six and a half feet tall, encased from the neck down in a suit of armor that he wore as if it was a second skin. He might have at one point in his life been quite handsome, though his face was now covered in a latticework of scars and his nose had obviously been broken a few too many times. The armor he wore bore emblazoned upon it a clenched black gauntlet set against a field of red, a mark that Carlos recognized as the insignia of the Royal Vandian Crusaders. He had to summon up quite a bit of willpower to resist the urge to mutter something to the affect of 'bah, paladins' under his breath.

The Crusader appeared unaware of the disdain leveled in his direction, or if he was he simply did not care, and turned sharply on his heel to face the prisoners, an impressive feat considering the sheer amount of armor he wore.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, though the palpable disdain in his voice told all those present that he said it more to mock them than anything else. "All of you have been convicted of crimes against the Kingdom of Halcyon and its citizens. You are here because by noon tomorrow you will all be swinging from the gallows." He calmly placed a gauntleted hand on his armored chest and smiled. "I am here to offer you a second chance. You each have skills that set you apart from the standard miscreant and the good King of Halcyon is in need of your services. To that end I have been authorized to offer you each a full pardon."

His smile broadened considerably when he noticed the four inmates perk up upon hearing this.

"There is just one catch," he went on. "For the next two years, you will serve Halcyon on the field of battle under my direct command. If you are still alive at the end, you will be free to go."

Sarah was the first of the shocked inmates to pipe up though when she did it was once again with a blatantly sarcastic taint in her voice. "So his majesty has finally decided to stop sleeping on his throne in Vandia and do something about the Bellicosians? Ladies and Gentlemen," she said, mockingly imitating the paladin's voice as best she could, "the Nine Hells have officially frozen over."

The armored man's smile turned back into the impassive expression he had worn when he entered, though otherwise he ignored the comment. "I will give you ten minutes to decide between the noose and redemption. Good day." He turned and strode from the cellblock, the door snapping shut behind him with a resounding bang.

The incessantly aggravating woman turned on her cot to face down the row of cells and glanced quizzically at each of their inhabitants before speaking. "Does anyone here actually need time to decide or are we all pretty sure that we want to go with Sir Holier-than-thou?"

Carlos paused a moment in thought. The choice was not a difficult one at first glance, he very much liked the prospect of remaining among the living longer than another twenty-four hours so the idea of agreeing to the paladin's offer was immediately appealing. Part of his mind, however, held the response back in his throat.

The paladin had said there was a catch, hadn't he? Fighting for the next two years could be problematic, the Kingdom of Halcyon probably had a line up of suicide mission after suicide mission in store for them and the entire affair could be long and drawn out, ultimately ending with an excruciatingly painful death for a King who didn't know or particularly care who he was. At least the noose would be quick and painless if it managed to break his neck.

After pondering the dilemma for a moment Carlos decided that, regardless of the situation, maybe dying later always trumped definitely dying now.

He nodded.

Two pairs of eyes, his and Sarah's, turned to look at the other inmates. The older man in the last cell down had returned to whistling the instant the door slammed shut. As if sensing their gaze, he turned on his cot and gave them both a curt nod. They turned to face the elven woman in the third cell, who still sat up against the bars that separated hers from the one that held the raven-haired man. Instead of answering she continued to gently rock back and forth, tears still threatening to roll down her cheeks.

"How did this happen?" The woman spoke in the quiet, choking way that people do when they weep. "Everything was going so well, how did it turn out like this?"

The pity that Carlos had felt for the elf returned in full force as she voiced his thoughts of only a few minutes ago. They were in the same boat, tossed into a deadly situation through no fault of their own. His mind returned to trying to think of something to say to comfort her, when he noticed the whistling peter off. The man in the last cell silently stood and walked over to the bars that separated his cell from the elf's. He knelt down next to her and reached through the bars, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. The woman sat up, startled, and her head whirled around to face him.

The black-haired man smiled down at her and his hand gently gave her a reassuring shake. When he spoke he did so slowly, deliberately, and with a thick accent resulting in a strangely warm, almost fatherly, drawl. "Do not worry, child. Did you not hear? We have been given a chance to avoid all of this."

"How?" Desperation tainted her voice, causing the words to waver as she spoke them. "By running off and dying on some suicide mission?"

The man looked into her eyes and spoke in a calm, comforting voice, "You will get through this just fine. Everyone finds a way."

She raised her arms in protest. "But I'm not a warrior, I can't fight. I can't even keep my cat in line."

"Do not cut yourself short, child." He paused and tilted his head, as if examining her. "You are a druid, are you not?"

She paused for a moment and looked up at him quizzically. "Yes, how did you know?" Though the expression on her face may not have been a happy one, it was no longer the dejected one that she had worn moments ago.

His smile broadened. "We all have our talents, child. I can see the magical energy that flows through your veins and I made an educated guess."

The elf managed to weakly return his smile, though it was obviously a forced one. "Why do you call me 'child'? You know, I'm probably more than twice your age."

He shrugged. "In years, perhaps, but in experience I am older than you by far."

Carlos watched their conversation unfold with great interest. With the exception of Sarah, they all seemed to be surprisingly reasonable for convicts who had been sentenced to hang. He leaned forward on his cot to get a better look at the black-haired inmate. The man was significantly older than him, held himself very casually for someone in a prison cell, and upon closer inspection the former farmer noticed that he had steel gray eyes that made him seem grounded and stable, even in this life and death situation.

"You seem like a pretty nice guy." When Carlos spoke up he drew the attention of the other three prisoners. "How did you end up here?"

"Nice guy?"

The warrior turned to see his onetime employer staring back at him in shock.

"Nice guy?! Don't you know who he is?" She pointed at the man in the fourth cell. "That's Tobias Ladimor, the Mist Hunter of Vandia! He's a murderer with thirty-eight kills under his belt and probably just as many unconfirmed!"

Carlos' head whipped around and he glared at the accused man. "Is that true?"

The man merely shook his head, "No," but just when Carlos was about to relax slightly, he continued. "The 'just as many' is a bit of an exaggeration. There are probably only five or six that no one found out about." He nonchalantly shrugged again. "I honestly do not know, I never bothered to count."

The elf gazed up at him in abject terror. When his eyes swung back to look into hers, she frantically backed away from him until her back hit the bars that separated her cell from Carlos'. "Stay the Hells away from me!"

"What? I am not going to hurt you." The admitted serial killer placed a hand on his chest and looked honestly hurt. "I do not kill people on a whim. I may be a murderer but I have my morals."

Sarah's eyes narrowed and she spoke with deadly severity, not even bothering to hide the utter contempt in her voice. "You've killed women and children."

Tobias held up a solitary finger. "Child. Singular. And only a few women."

Carlos found the matter-of-fact tone he spoke with disturbing. It was as if the murderer actually thought the exact number of women and children he killed was an important distinction.

"The boy was not all that young either. He was certainly old enough to kill one of his own friends over a girl. If he had not been the firstborn of a noble he would have swung from the gallows the day they caught him and I would not have had to deal with it myself."

The warrior glared through the bars at him. "So you've appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner?"

The murderer solemnly bowed. "I must. Someone must for the sake of a brighter tomorrow."

Sarah snapped at him before Carlos could even open his mouth to respond. "You honestly think it's fine to just go out and kill people you don't like so that you can live in some perfect world?"

Tobias stared back at her for a moment with a startled expression on his face, as if surprised by the question. "Live there? My own death will be but another step on the road to that world." The surprise on his face melted into a look of quiet resignation. "I have done terrible things. I have killed dozens of men – husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers – all without pity, mercy, or shame. When I am finally killed the world will rejoice, and rightfully so. I am evil, but I am a necessary evil." His steely eyes narrowed as he glared back at her. "Can you say the same thing Sarah Griffon?"

One of her eyebrows rose at hearing her name. "You know me?"

"Yes. I was tracking you when you passed through Vandia last month. I had gotten wind of your little side business and had chosen you as my next target." His tone quickly became an accusing one. "Do you have any idea how many lives your concoctions have ruined? How many people your poisons have killed? Your crime puts mine to shame, and I would have killed you weeks ago if those damned Crusaders had not caught me first."

"My heart bleeds for you," the alchemist said with downright disgusting insincerity. "Really, it does."

A reassuring smile formed on his face. "It will soon enough, though not for me."

Silence descended on the cellblock. Tobias strode back to his cot, lay down on it, and returned to whistling, though this time the tune was a far more morbid, lamenting one.

The elf shakily sat and she now looked terrified in addition to depressed. The sympathy and concern that Carlos had felt for her compelled him to rise from his cot and cross over toward her. She recoiled slightly as he approached, though seemed too paralyzed by fear to do anything else.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He slowly sat down on the other side of the bars from her, but made no other moves and the elf gradually relaxed. "What's your name?"

"Aleera." Her voice was soft at first, though as she spoke she managed to summon what little confidence she had. "Aleera Saj'theron."

"How did a druid of the Commonwealth get here?" The drug runner's voice was not as compassionate as Carlos', and he was worried that the already frightened elf would be further intimidated by it.

Aleera managed to answer, though her voice was shaky at best. "I was sent here as part of a diplomatic envoy, as an aid to the Third Speaker. We were supposed to negotiate a new trade agreement with Halcyon after the war started." She rubbed her temples with her slender fingers. "It all seems so long ago now." Her apprehensive expression turned to one of desperation. "They think I murdered the paladin in charge of our bodyguard detail, but I didn't!"

Sarah's eyes rolled and she chuckled mockingly. "Everyone says they didn't do it."

Carlos glanced back and shot a menacing glare at his former employer.

"But I really didn't do it!" the elf exclaimed again.

The whistling stopped and Tobias spoke up in his relaxed, lazy drawl. "I know you did not, child."

She turned to face him, startled and the tiniest bit hopeful. "You do?"

"Yes," he said as he sat up and looked her in the eyes. "I killed him."

"What?!" The elf's voice contained equal amounts of surprise and horror. Though Carlos could not see Aleera's face, he could imagine the look of shock that must have flashed across it.

The impenitent murderer continued in a frighteningly offhand tone. "Roland Bly, the head of security for the Commonwealth embassy in Vandia. I killed him, he was the last one before my arrest." He lay back down on his cot and smiled, as if savoring the memory. "An arrogant lout, even by Crusader standards."

Aleera quickly turned away from Tobias and drew her legs back up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them again. The fearful look had returned and Carlos could see her trembling slightly.

"Don't worry about him. I-" He paused and glanced back at Sarah before continuing. "We won't let him hurt you."

The drug runner raised an eyebrow at the comment, but she remained mercifully silent.

The elf slowly relaxed again. She nodded unsteadily. "Thank you." Her quivering voice trailed off and she looked down, slightly embarrassed. "I don't even know your name."

The edges of his mouth curled upward ever so slightly. "Carlos."

She nodded again, though this time it was with much more confidence. "Thank you Carlos." Aleera smiled back up at him. It was the first time he had seen her truly smile, and it was warm and infectious. He could fell his own smile involuntarily broaden and had the creeping suspicion that his former employer was rolling her eyes in disdain.

The moment was coldly shattered by the banging the heavy wooden door to the cellblock made as it opened and through it strode the armored man from earlier. "Time's up. What say you?"

As before, Sarah was the first to speak up. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say we're in."

"Excellent." He set down a large, mahogany case on a nearby table and opened it, plucking from within it four, mat gray strands of what appeared to be liquid metal. "Approach the bars and hold out one of your wrists."

Each of the inmates hesitantly did so. The paladin handed the strands of metal to one of the guards. The guard walked down the line of cells, wrapping one of the strands around each of the out stretched wrists just below their manacles. The bands did not burn, nor did they feel cold. Instead, they each exactly matched the temperature of the arm it was attached to and slowly the metal seemed to sink into the flesh until it was flush with each of the skin, though they remained clearly visible.

"These bands have a number of quite interesting functions."

The drug runner flashed a smug smile. "Other than looking butt ugly?" The grin on her face suddenly vanished and she doubled over, clutching her head and screaming in pain.

Carlos and Aleera stared in shock as she collapsed, and then each glanced down at their own bands in wide-eyed terror.

The paladin smirked as Sarah writhed on the cell floor in agony and looked as if he was taking a great deal of pleasure in seeing her brought low. "They allow me to inflict an immense amount of pain on each of you and, if I so choose, kill any of you at will. If you stray more than a mile from me your bodies will be wracked with pain until you return to within that distance. Also, if I should die, you will all have the honor of dying along with me."

Sarah stopped screaming as the waves of pain abated and began to tremble. She slowly drew her legs up to her chest and curled into a tiny ball, all signs of the confident and smart-mouthed woman erased by the mind numbing pain.

"In the field I will not hesitate to use these should you endanger the mission in anyway." He walked over to the bars of Sarah's cell and looked down at the cowering alchemist with unconcealed and unmitigated contempt. "There is no chance of escape, so you had best get such foolish notions out of your heads now. Consider this fair warning, I will not be so merciful in the future."

Tobias eyed his metal band with a decidedly unconcerned expression, then turned his steel gaze to the paladin. "And who, if a may be so bold, are you exactly?"

The armored man glared daggers back at the serial killer. "My name is of no concern to scum like you. For now, I am simply The Major." He motioned to the guards, who opened the cell doors and tossed a pack into the middle of each cell. "Get geared up, we move out in half an hour."


	2. Maggot

Chapter Two: Maggot

_"The gentleman from the South had a question about the dining arrangements. He and his comrades are discussing place settings now." – Major Reisman, explaining the brawl in the mess hall_

The dull ache in his feet refused to fade as Carlos trudged on, his boots kicking up small wisps of dust as he walked down the rough dirt road. Though at first he had welcomed the opportunity to stretch his legs after being confined to a ten foot by ten foot cage, the novelty had worn off days ago. They had been walking for nearly a week along one of the many dirt roads that crisscrossed the open fields of rural Halcyon, and the beating sun had not made the journey a pleasant one. But The Major, as he preferred to be addressed, was adamant that they needed to reach the Duskfang Mountains to the west with haste. Why, he would not say, and Carlos knew better than to press the matter further, especially after the demonstration on the first day.

The warrior glanced down at the metal band that had melded into the flesh just above his right wrist. For such a small trinket, it presented a daunting challenge. If all that The Major had said was true, then the tiny gray band made escape next to impossible while it still encircled his lower arm. Ideas on how to remove it had wound their way through his head at various times during the past few days, though – short of slicing off the hand entirely – none of them seemed particularly feasible given his current situation.

His brow furrowed at the thought. While he would very much like to get out from under the armored thumb of the stuck up paladin, he was also not about to part with his right hand unless he had no other options.

The voice of the woman who walked beside him jarred him from his thoughts. "So Carlos, how did you end up here anyway?"

He smiled. Aleera's attempts at small talk had been nervous ones, though he found it a welcome break from Sarah's snide remarks or Tobias' disturbingly cold rants.

"I worked as a caravan guard for our resident alchemist and drug runner without the slightest clue what she was dealing in. A Royal Vandian Crusader crashed the party and mopped the floor with the lot of us. I got arrested along with her." He glared down the dirt path at where Sarah walked ahead of them, bickering with Tobias about something that he suspected was not particularly important in the first place. "Sometimes I just want to wring her lying little neck." He held up and clenched his fists to emphasize the words, his toughened hide gloves making a satisfying crinkling sound as he did.

Aleera's eyes followed his gaze and settled on Sarah. "She doesn't seem that bad to me."

Her kind words regarding the decidedly unkind alchemist startled Carlos. He turned to face the elf, his confusion written prominently on his face. "Are you kidding? She's done nothing but bad mouth everyone, you included, since we all met."

Slowly and pensively she nodded, acknowledging his words but still disagreeing. "She has a mean tongue to be sure, but she doesn't strike me as malicious." She paused for a moment, as if considering something. "Then again, he didn't either." The elf jerked her head to indicate Tobias and then shivered before continuing. "Dear Ehlenestra, thirty-eight people? I did not think anyone capable of such a thing, and he almost seemed proud of it."

As Carlos' gaze shifted back toward the murderer and drug runner ahead of them he saw something that made his eyes widen. "Oh no."

"What?" Aleera looked at him, her eyes darting to glance at where he was staring, then back toward him. Confusion and concern clashed on her face.

"Sarah's smiling." Indeed, the young wizard was grinning from ear to ear. It was a smile that could mean only one thing: Trouble.

The perplexed expression that Aleera wore, however, mad it clear that she wasn't making the connection. "So?"

"That can't be a good sign." He became even more concerned when he saw Sarah laugh and Tobias suddenly stiffen, his hands balling into fists. It seemed obvious to Carlos that angering a proud murderer was a stupid move, though he was somehow entirely unsurprised that Sarah would try it. "As much as I dislike her, I hope she doesn't–"

He didn't manage to finish the sentence, because at that moment Tobias raised one of his hands, palm facing toward the chuckling alchemist. A bolt of pure darkness shot from the hand and crashed into her, sending the woman tumbling to the side. She hit the ground and, not missing a beat, immediately rolled to face her attacker. She held out both of her slender hands and a blinding white cloud of snow and sleet leapt from her palms. The older man was, however, surprisingly spry and managed to dive to the side, evading the wave of biting cold. He lunged toward Sarah and pinned her to the ground with one hand gripping her neck.

Carlos turned toward The Major, who sat astride his mount watching the scuffle. "Major, can't you stop them?"

The paladin smiled and shrugged, though when he spoke his eyes did not drift from the furious combatants. "I could." Could? A mere thought on his part would cause both of them to drop to the ground, writhing in agony, and easily end the fight then and there. The former farmer found himself wondering what The Major was playing at.

As they spoke, Tobias drew a short sword with his free hand and wreathed it in black flame, preparing to strike his pinned enemy. Before he could though, a booted foot shot up and struck him squarely in the stomach. A flash of sparkling blue light suddenly burst from where the foot contacted him and the man was sent flying back, tiny arcs of crackling electricity running across his body. He hit the dirt and skidded to a halt.

The warrior on the sidelines waited anxiously for more of an answer, but when none came he put forth another question. "Then why don't you?"

"I want to see how this plays out." The Major motioned to the fight. "It will give me a chance to see those two in action."

Sarah was first to her feet but Tobias muttered something unintelligible and promptly vanished in a plume of dark fire and brimstone. The young wizard swore under her breath and raised her hands. After a number of intricate movements from her slender fingers, her opponent reappeared, though by this time he had managed to stand and move slightly. The murderer, taking a mere moment to realize that he was visible again, held out his palm and shot another blast at Sarah. The black bolt caught her in the shoulder and sent her stumbling backward, though this time she managed to remain on her feet.

She broke into a run toward Ladimor. As she did, her body shimmered and split into two, identical versions of herself that pealed off, each circling the murderer in opposite directions. His eyes darted from one Sarah to the other, but could not find any differences to hint at which was the real one. Carlos could not help but smile at the ingenuity shown by his former employer as he watched the battle unfold. Tobias raised an arm, sending a ray of darkness speeding toward one of the alchemists, whose very skin and clothing seemed to ripple and distort as the beam lanced harmlessly through her.

The murderer spun to face the real Sarah, whose hands had just finished a series of elaborate motions. A small sphere of frost condensed in the air, suspended above one of her outstretched palms and a sharp flick of the wrist sent the orb hurtling into the sky above Tobias. With a brittle sounding snap it burst into thousands of hailstones that rained down on his head. The ice battered the older man, though it didn't seem to slow him down. If anything, the pounding only served to anger him further, and he lunged forward through the storm of ice.

The frost, which now coated the dirt, normally would have been treacherous even if the person walking across it took their time. Tobias, however, sailed across the white sheet with ease, his feet never even skimming the ground below him. With a maniacal grin on his face he brought his short sword around in a sweeping arc toward Sarah, the blade bursting into black flame as he did. The woman let out a startled yelp and barely ducked the swing, the burning blade slicing through the air where her neck had been moments ago. She quickly backed off, dodging a second, hurried swing as she went. While she backpedaled, arcane words escaped her mouth in a low hiss and she faded from sight.

Tobias stood blinking in shock for a moment before a disturbing calm elbowed his surprise aside and a smile slowly crept across his face. The fingers on his free hand twitched and drummed against thin air in eager anticipation. The murderer suddenly whirled about and brought up his left hand. A bolt of darkness leapt from his palm and shot out across the empty field, lancing toward a grand total of nothing. The ray was brought to an abrupt halt by seemingly open air roughly half a dozen yards from Tobias and was greeted by a shriek of pain. A small plume of steam wafted up through the air where the beam had stopped, though the wisps appeared to materialize out of nothingness.

He casually strolled over toward the rising steam and his smile broadened into a malevolent grin as he heard the sound of something being dragged across the ground. The movement kicked up a small, swirling cloud of dirt that highlighted a body sized empty space that was frantically backing away from the approaching murderer. Tobias eventually reached the eye of the dust cloud and lifted one of his booted feet, pressing it down on the center of the open air. His foot met with a solid object and Sarah gradually phased into existence beneath his heel. Her hands clutched at a smoldering black burn on her neck that belched forth tendrils of steam from the bubbling and hissing skin.

The murderer took his foot off the alchemist's stomach and stooped down. His free hand grabbed her by the collar, dragging her terrified face to within inches of his. Tobias tilted his head to one side and flashed an expression of bemusement.

"Have you forgotten who I am?" He let out a laugh when he received no response from the wounded woman. "I am the Mist Hunter! Your petty tricks cannot hide you from me."

Tobias raised his short sword above his head, a feral gleam in his eyes. Black flame wrapped itself around the blade and crackled with unholy glee, as delighted by the chance to taste fresh blood as its master.

"Now die."

Before he could bring the burning blade down on Sarah, however, his eyes widened and he screamed in pain. The sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, the dark fire subsiding before it even hit the dirt. He released his grip on the woman's collar and staggered backward, clutching his head as he howled. Spasms shot through his body and his legs crumpled beneath his weight. Even after the immediate agony subsided, the he remained where he collapsed for some time.

The Major brought his horse up at a slow cantor and came to a stop beside the trembling man, who was struggling – and failing – to get to his feet. He glared down at Tobias not bothering to mask his contempt. "That's enough Ladimor. You've had your fun, now get moving." A nudge from one of his heels spurned the mount onward down the road.

The impenitent murderer eventually managed to prop himself up on his buckling legs. His entire body quivered as he stumbled forward, partially from the intense pain that had assaulted him only moments ago, and partially from only half-suppressed rage. His eyes burned with unholy fury and he raised one of his shaking arms to point at The Major. A ravenous black inferno burst to life in the palm his outstretched hand, tendrils trying desperately to claw their way out of his grasp so that they might devour the paladin's flesh before being yanked back into his palm. The flame and Tobias both simmered for a moment before he clenched his hand into a fist, extinguishing the dark embers. He took a few heavy breaths, calming himself before ultimately trudging off after his jailor.

Only Carlos saw just how close the murderer's temper had brought him to lashing out again. When he had seen Tobias stumble and struggle even to stand the warrior had lurched forward, instinctively moving to aid the wounded man. He had barely taken a single step when the more sensible part of his mind harshly berated him for his foolishness. This was not some everyday man who would appreciate his assistance. The older man before him was a cold-blooded killer, a monster who shamelessly slaughtered men, women, and children for a delusion. And hadn't he been the one to start the entire fight? Hadn't he been the one to take what was probably a simple jest so seriously? This, Carlos reasoned, was nothing more than Tobias deserved. He turned away from the murderer, his gaze settling instead on the woman who had almost been the Mist Hunter's latest victim.

Aleera had rushed to Sarah's side, a look of concern prominently displayed on her sharp, elven face. She knelt beside the alchemist and tenderly lifted away the hands that clutched at the smoldering burn. "Hold on, don't touch it." The nervousness that had characterized the druidess in days past had vanished, replaced by quiet composure and an unspoken urgency. The sudden, inexplicable change momentarily stunned Carlos, and he suspect that Sarah would have been equally surprised if it were not for the fact that she had much greater concerns at the moment. "Here, let me."

She placed one her slender hands gingerly on the charred skin, causing the wounded woman to cringe and stiffen, her hands balling into tight fists. The elf's free hand quickly grasped one of Sarah's and rubbed it soothingly with her thumb. Slowly, the alchemist relaxed and Aleera closed her eyes, softly chanting elven words that flowed off her tongue like crystal clear water. The hand that covered the burn pulsed with vibrant green energy and gentle warmth. The healthy skin on Sarah's neck gradually crept inward, closing in on and swallowing up the unholy wound.

Her eyes slid open and looked down at the now healed wizard. "Better?"

The drug runner blinked absently and one of her hands slid up to rub her neck. Not a single blemish remained to testify of the horrendous burn that had marked it. "I think so." She met Aleera's gaze with more than a little confusion at the surprise show of compassion evident on her face. "Thank you."

As the motley group continued on their journey, the rolling fields and dirt road slowly morphed into rocky hills and eventually dull gray mountains strewn with patches of heavy timberland in the low areas were the cool mist pooled in thick blankets. After more than a week on the road, the weary band finally stumbled into a small town nestled in the depths of the Duskfang Mountains. It was a quiet place, far removed from other signs of civilization, where hunters and trappers came to rest between excursions into the mountains.

From horseback The Major motioned to the village. "Well, here we are. Warren's Fall, a quaint little hole in the ground if ever there was one." The disdain in his voice was almost palpable.

Sarah wrinkled her nose at the comment. "Then why did you drag us up here?"

The paladin pointed down the main road, which eventually led west out of town. "Supply convoys running through these mountains have been coming under attack lately from an unusually well organized group of bandits." He scoffed at the last word, as if not even believing it himself.

One of Carlos' eyebrows rose. He turned toward The Major, his curiosity piqued by the skepticism in his jailor's voice. "Bellicosians?"

He gave the warrior a curt nod. "Vandian Command thinks so." He dismounted and patted the side of his warhorse's head. The entire horse, armor and all, abruptly winked out of existence. "We will begin our search of the area in the morning. In the mean time, get some rest. You'll need it."

The town's inn was by no means an up scale establishment, though it was also not nearly as run down as the other buildings. Carlos was a bit startled by how quick The Major was to bully the innkeeper with threats of official scrutiny, but the paladin did manage to secure three rooms for them, so he didn't complain at first. The Major took one of the rooms for himself and Sarah and Aleera took the second, leaving Carlos to share the last with Tobias. This last fact was disconcerting for the warrior to say the least, he certainly wasn't looking forward to having to stay up all night to ensure that he didn't get his throat slit or his face melted.

He wandered down the stairs of the inn. Like most of the establishments of its kind, the ground floor doubled as a bar so that those staying in the rooms above never had to go very far if they were in the mood for a strong drink. It also made dragging passed out friends back to their rooms that much easier.

The former farmer made his way through a crowd of other patrons toward the bar. He was a little surprised by how much freedom The Major was granting them, allowing them to openly walk about and fraternize with the townsfolk. The paladin had no reason to trust them, why would he leave them to their own devices? A glance down at his wrist banished the confusion from his mind. The dull gray band that had sunk into his wrist ensured his subservience and, while it remained, any sense of freedom he felt was nothing more than an illusion.

Such solemn thoughts drained from his mind as he spotted a familiar face at the bar. Of all the people he expected to see sitting alone in a rowdy bar, Aleera was possibly the last on the list. Though he wasn't all that surprised that the thin-skinned druidess would need something to calm her nerves he suspected that, given her slight build, the elf was one of the lightest of the lightweights where alcohol was concerned. He was also a little amazed that none of the other men in the bar had tried to make a pass at her.

The warrior shrugged. Might as well keep her company before some drunken idiot tries to.

He sat down on the stool next to her, though she didn't seem to notice him at first. "Aleera?"

She turned, slightly startled, though her expression softened when she saw him. "Oh, hello Carlos."

The bartender, a slightly overweight man probably in his early forties, walked over to them. "What can I do you for?" He didn't even look at them. Instead his gaze remained locked on the glass that he was cleaning. Carlos recognized the act as a standard way that the bartenders he had always come across made themselves look busy when in reality they were trying to eavesdrop on the conversations of their patrons.

"Just some of the house ale." He placed a few coins down on the bar.

"And anything for your friend?"

He glanced over at Aleera, then back at the bartender. "The weakest thing you have." The older man gave him another nod, only this one was slower and betrayed the slightest bit of hesitation, then took the coins and left the two to themselves.

As the bartender departed to see to their drinks, Aleera turned toward Carlos, one of her eyebrows raised. The beginnings of an amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I sense an alarming lack of faith in my fortitude on your part."

The warrior shrugged, though he was secretly glad that she had taken what might have been seen as an insult in good humor. He pressed his luck, trying to maintain the jovial mood. "It might have something to do with the fact that you're a head shorter than me and probably weigh what, half as much as me?" He motioned idly toward her. "Less?"

Aleera opened her mouth, about to shoot back a retort, when the bartender returned and set a pair of mugs down on the bar in front of them.

Carlos scooped up his mug and held it up in a toast. "Well, this is it. Here's to our first, and hopefully not our last, mission." He took a swig of the ale. While it was not the worst thing that he had ever tasted, it was pretty far down the list. It was, however, still ale and he desperately needed something to put him at ease.

A smile slowly slid across his face as he saw Aleera take a tentative sip of her drink. The appalled expression that flickered across her face hinted that the drink was vastly different than what she was used to. Letting out a weak cough, she quickly set the mug down. The warrior barely managed to suppress a laugh and quickly took another sip of ale to stay his tongue before his resolve could falter. In the silence that followed, what mirth there was slowly faded as somber realization swept their other thoughts aside. They each knew that, despite their hopes to the contrary, there was a very good chance that this night would be their last.

Aleera's shoulders sagged and she slowly shook her head. "I don't know if I can do this." Her voice, though not nearly as shaky as when they had first met, was anything but confident. Carlos found himself wondering what had happened the composure that the druidess had displayed when healing Sarah. Surely it could not have simply vanished, something like that cannot just up and abandon someone. Could it?

He calmly lowered his mug and set it on the bar, then turned to face her. "It's only for the next two years. To an elf that must seem like the blink of an eye."

"Normally, yes." She smiled at the observation though there was no joy or warmth behind it. "But I doubt the knowledge that each new day could be my last will help."

"Each day could always be your last." Carlos picked up his mug again and held it up in a toast as he had before. "As soon as you're born you start dying, so you might as well have a good time." He brought the drink to his lips and took another long swig and took the moment to focus on the liquid as it burned it's way down his throat, grateful to have something other than his imminent demise to think on.

He heard Aleera lightly chuckle and glanced up from his drink, slightly confused. She was looking off into bar, to where a number of other patrons sat around a circular table. "Well, it looks like Sarah took that advice to heart."

Carlos' gaze followed hers and quickly spotted a familiar face at the table. Sarah and four others, heavily built men mostly, each sat around the table with a pile of copper pieces in front of them. Judging by the sheer number that sat in front of the drug runner, it was obvious that she was cleaning house. As he watched, Carlos saw them gather up a number of dice into cups, one for each of them, and shake them. With a resounding clatter, the cups were slammed down onto the table, trapping the dice within them. The players quickly glanced under their own cups at their dice before turning their gaze to each other. Coins were cast into the center and each began bidding in turn.

The sides of his mouth turned upward as he saw that the only player at the table who was apparently having any fun was Sarah, which might have had something to with the aforementioned pile of coins. "Hmph, liar's dice." He took another sip of ale as he watched the game unfold. "Somehow I'm not surprised she's a natural."

Bidding progressed quickly until it was the turn of a burly man, probably a trapper if the large number of animal hides he wore were any indication, who sat to Sarah's right. He glanced down at the dice under his cup then back at the other players. "Three sixes."

"Liar." Four sets of startled eyes turned toward Sarah, who wore an ominously confident smile on her face.

The man to her right gave the alchemist a perplexed look. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yes, you're a liar." She sounded strangely sure of herself for someone who was challenging a reasonably safe bid.

Sure enough, when the dice cups were lifted away, there were only two sixes and no ones among them with the first six under the trapper's cup and the second under Sarah's. The eyes of the four doubters all widened, though Sarah merely smiled. She reached out to scoop up the money in the center of the table but one of the trapper's massive hands shot forward and snatched the woman's outstretched hand.

"Now hold on a second."

"Why should I?" She looked back at him with a disgustingly sweet smile on her face. "I won fair and square."

The trapper's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a low, threatening tone. "I'm not so sure about that."

Her smile vanished. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything." His words sounded more like the snarl of a beast than the voice of a man. "I'm saying you're a cheat, now hands off the money."

"I don't think so."

The alchemist placed her free hand on the center of the man's chest. A noise that began as a low whine quickly built into a loud rumble and broke with a resounding bang. The air around the man rippled and the trapper was sent hurtling backward into another table, where a number of men sat playing cards. The wooden table splintered and cracked under the heavily built man's weight, sending drinks and coins flying through the air.

To simply say that 'a fight broke out' would not come anywhere close to properly describing the chaos that claimed the inn. The drinks that were lobed by the smashed table drenched several patrons in stale ale and, not bothering to discern where the offending ale had come from, they promptly punched the nearest living thing. Friends and the friends of friends were dragged into the brawl, which quickly spiraled out of control. On top of all of that, the crash flung the mound of copper pieces that the card players were using as stakes into the air. Many of the countless drunkards that packed the bar dived to grab as many of the coins as the could, only adding to the number of bodies that were already sailing through the air.

In the confusion, Sarah slipped out of a side door and into an alleyway that ran alongside the inn. She chuckled lightly and slipped the coins she had managed to make off with into a pouch on her belt. The young alchemist turned to leave the alley and nearly ran headlong into two of her fellow convicts.

"What?" She tried to inject as much innocence as she could into her voice, though at this point it was a futile effort.

Aleera glared at her, not buying into her act for an instant. "Were you cheating?"

"No." The drug runner tried to smile amiably, but when the accusing gazes of neither the warrior nor druidess relented, her facade slowly cracked and failed. "Okay, maybe just a little bit." Sarah tried to laugh it off, but it quickly became apparent that her accusers were not at all amused by the situation. Her friendly tone morphed into a more defensive one. "Those buffoons were so weak willed that it would have been tough to not read their surface thoughts. They were practically shouting out what they had."

Carlos slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand while Aleera merely shook her head in frustration. Sarah's attitude was already making the prospect of working with her unbearable and he silently dreaded what the coming days let alone the next two years would hold if she kept it up. That mouth of hers nearly got her kill on the road by–

His thoughts ground to a halt and the expression on his face mirrored the sudden concern that welled up in his mind. "Wait a minute, where's Tobias?" He hadn't seen the murderer in the bar and while the rest of them might be sane enough not to do anything to extreme, he couldn't, with confidence, say the same for a man who had spoken casually about slaughtering women and children.

Sarah shrugged. "Hells if I know, or care for that matter. Hopefully the psycho has gone and gotten himself killed."

Worry crept into his voice as he mumbled to himself. "Were it so easy." He began backing up and pointed to the two women before him. "Find The Major, I'll try to find Tobias." With that, he turned and strode out onto the streets of Warren's Fall.

Night had long since thrown its veil over Halcyon and the town was, for the most part, asleep. Those who were still awake were currently beating the tar out of each other in the bar fight inside, leaving the streets deserted. Carlos slowly walked down road deeper into town, the packed dirt muffling his footsteps. The first thing that struck the warrior as odd was not the sight, locked up shops and darkened windows, nor the sound, nothing accept for the occasional insect and the faint noise from the brawl back at the inn. It was the smell, a slightly acidic stench that hung in the air and stung his nose when he breathed. With it as his only lead, he followed the scent and soon stumbled upon a puzzling sight. A fine black mist rolled along the ground ahead of him, and he could see in the distance a thick cloud of the substance wafting out of an alleyway down the street.

It took Carlos a moment to realize what he was seeing. He remembered what Sarah had called Tobias.

'The Mist Hunter.'

The former farmer dashed toward the alleyway, plunging headlong into the dark mist. The fumes sapped at his strength as he inhaled them, but he managed to wave off the effects and press onward. He turned the corner into the alley and jerked to a halt. As he had suspected, Tobias stood farther down the alley, which dead ended a ways after that. What took Carlos by surprise was what he held in his hand. Pressed against wall, kept on his feet by Tobias' hand gripping his collar, was a badly bruised man. Blood trickled down from his obviously broken nose and his eyes were wide with terror. The eyes of the confessed murderer shone in the night with a feral gleam that showed no sign of pity, mercy, or sanity. He leisurely lifted his free hand and held it, palm forward, in front of wounded man's face. Black flame sprang to life around it and simmered eagerly, ready and willing to feast upon its latest victim.


	3. Nightmares

AN: While for simplicity's sake I refer to the weapon that Tobias uses as a short sword, it is in fact more like a Chinese jian than a stereotypical medieval arming sword.

Chapter Three: Nightmares 

"_And the sea shall grant each man new hope, as sleep brings dreams of home." – Christopher Columbus_

Carlos took a step forward and was about to take a second when Tobias' free hand swung to point toward him. The black flames that writhed in his grasp leapt out from the palm and struck the ground mere inches in front of Carlos' feet. The warrior froze, every muscle in his body stiffening as primal terror swept through his body. Memories of the horrific burn that the bolt of darkness had given Sarah rushed to the forefront of his mind and images of himself sharing a similar fate flickered before him. He quickly quashed his fear, replacing it instead with the cold determination he knew he would need to walk out of the alley with his life.

He placed one of his hands on the handle of the sword he wore in a scabbard on his belt. "Tobias," he said in the most menacing voice he could muster, "Let him go."

The murderer's head lazily turned until his eyes gazed into Carlos'. "Why?" He tilted his head, a quizzical expression worn on his face.

The warrior's fingers tightened around the handle and began inching the blade out of its sheath. "He hasn't done anything."

The Mist Hunter chuckled. "Has not done anything?" He turned back toward the man he held by the collar and gave his bloodied victim a slight shake. "In the bar he called me a liar and a coward, then accepted my offer to take the dispute outside." His eyes narrowed and his tone dropped to a low, mocking one. "He willingly walked into this and now he must pay the price."

"Don't." Carlos silently cursed himself for leaving his shield and breastplate back in their room at the inn, though he honestly doubted they would have helped overmuch against one such as Ladimor. Back on the road, the murderer had been able to vanish from sight with a mere word and, though Sarah had been able to counter that, the warrior was not sure how he would.

A smile that reeked of insanity slowly spread across Tobias' face. It was the kind of grin normally reserved for those who killed and ate small children for kicks, though Carlos honestly wouldn't put it past the psychopath. "Tell you what, since you are so concerned for the wellbeing of this whelp, I will give him a chance." The grin vanished, leaving behind a look of solemnity. "If you can defeat me, on my honor, I will let him walk free." He slowly bowed his head, as if he were trying to create an appearance of sincerity.

Carlos had to summon a sizable amount of willpower to resist the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the offer. Instead, he merely let out a short scoff. "Fight you? When you could just shoot me or turn invisible like you did against Sarah?" His eyes narrowed angrily, convinced that the older man was pulling his leg. "Do you take me for a fool?"

Tobias stroked the prickly black beard that had grown on his wrinkled chin during his imprisonment and the journey to Warren's Fall. He eventually nodded in agreement. "No, you are right. The fight would hardly be even." He leisurely tossed the terrified man he held aside and drew the short sword that hung from his belt. "How about this, we will duel blade to blade. No magic tricks." He flashed his 'I eat babies' grin again and held up the short sword, point toward Carlos. "A fair fight."

The long sword that had been slowly crawling from its sheath left that home behind and its wielder leveled it at the grinning lunatic. Carlos' eyes narrowed further. "And what guarantee do I have that you won't use magic?"

The murderer looked taken aback, as if surprised that someone would question his sincerity, and placed his free hand on his chest. "You have the word of the Mist Hunter." He shrugged slightly. "Though you may not believe that to be worth much, it is the best guarantee you will be able to find in any of the Nine Hells." His startled expression faded and one of glee took its place. "Now, fight me."

Tobias surged forward, his aging frame summoning far more power than Carlos thought possible. The glint of steel in the moonlight caught the warrior's eye as the older man's short sword sliced through the night air, its tip skimming just above the dirt in a low arc toward his legs. He met the blade with his own and brought the sword to an abrupt stop. Seizing the offensive, and Tobias' collar with his left hand, Carlos flung the smaller man to the side. A normal opponent would have sprawled out across the ground. Tobias, however, landed on one foot and bounded to the side, as if the fight were merely an intricate dance in which he never missed a beat.

Carlos marveled a how quick the older man's movements were, until his common sense reminded him of exactly what he was up against. He's a murderer, someone in his profession doesn't get that old unless they are very good at what they do. Tobias lunged again, this time swinging in from the side at neck level. The warrior's eyes, however, saw it for what it truly was: A feint.

Since the day he had first picked up a blade more than a decade ago he could read his enemies like a book. A vicious, sword-wielding book that was trying its best to part his head from his shoulders, but a book none the less. Before the stroke fell, Tobias flicked the sword around and whipped it in an arc up and around Carlos' defenses, or rather where they would have been if he had moved his sword to block the opening part of the strike. The clang of steel on steel rang through the alleyway as the two blades met head on.

Carlos pushed back on the sword, forcing Tobias back a few steps and almost causing him to trip over the object of their duel, who was trying to crawl past the two combatants. The murderer's eyes swung to glare at him. He gave the man a smile, a shake of the head, and a kick to the chin before diving headlong back into the fight.

Where most would panic, Carlos was paragon of calm. To him fighting was not a terrifying ordeal, or even particularly interesting. Once he found his way past the tension and anxiety that preceded any battle, it became almost a chore. As he deflected another of Tobias' strikes his mind watched with an attitude that most would associate with a tired sigh and an exasperated 'Work, work.' To him it was more like simply going through the motions, playing out a scene even though he already knew how it would end. He knew that Tobias would dart back and avoid the swing at his waist before the blade even began its to trace the arc. A particularly bored corner of the warrior's mind made a note of the move.

Mate in three.

Recognition flickered across the Mist Hunter's face. As he sidestepped another stroke of the long sword, this time directed at his shoulder, Tobias realized what was happening. He was being boxed in. Every dodge was bringing closer and closer to the wall of the alley. He tried to duck past Carlos, but the warrior's blade was waiting for him. His short sword shot up and blocked the swing head on. The sheer force of the strike, however, sent the murderer stumbling back even further toward the alley wall. Not pausing for an instant after regaining his footing, Tobias lunged again, this time lashing out with a downward stroke of his short sword.

Two.

Holding his long sword in one hand, Carlos blocked the strike high in the air above his head. The blades slammed into each other with jarring force and their hilts locked together. With his free hand, the warrior grabbed the murder's right wrist and wrenched it down, dragging it and both swords down to knee level. The two convicts stood shoulder to shoulder, their swords crossed and held in place by the hands of the determined mercenary. The older man may have been nimble, but in a contest of raw strength Carlos was the clear winner.

One.

The warrior's elbow shot up and rammed into Tobias' sternum, knocking the wind out of his lungs and sending him staggering back. His short sword, however, did not go with him, as Carlos' long sword still held it down. Without a hand to hold it, the smaller blade clattered to the ground. Carlos stood, kicked the short sword even further away from Ladimor, and calmly raised his sword point to the Mist Hunter's neck.

Checkmate.

Tobias' eyes darted from the blade in front of his throat, to his own short sword which lay well out of reach, then to Carlos' stony face. "Impressive." He spoke without a hint of fear, and instead seemed bizarrely pleased by the turn of events. He nodded as much as he could without slicing his own neck open. "Very well, I yield."

Carlos continued to glare at his defeated adversary and the sword remained at his throat. "Tell me Tobias, why shouldn't I just kill you here and now?" His voice was cold and his face impassive, though his mind was in chaos. The curtain had fallen and the play was finished. The rhythm that had swept him through every one of his many battles had faded, leaving him with only one thought: Now what?

While his conscience screamed that killing the murderer before he could harm anyone else would be the right thing to do, the more logical part of his brain reminded him that the act would also condemn him to die slowly and painfully at the hands of The Major. As his mind attempted to sort out the dilemma, his mouth continued along its current course. "The world would be a better place without you. I could slit your throat and save everyone a whole lot of suffering."

A small, confident smile tugged at the corners of Tobias' mouth. When he spoke it was with surprising poise for a man with a sword less than an inch from his jugular that was held by someone who had just threatened to kill him.

"I believe you will find that exceedingly difficult without a sword."

Before Carlos could process the absurdity of the statement, the older man spoke a single word in a strange, otherworldly tongue. As the bizarre syllables hissed forth from Ladimor's mouth, a spider web of cracks suddenly shot through the long sword. The blade promptly snapped off at the hilt and clattered to the ground, shattering into a dozen pieces on impact.

The debate in his mind ground to a halt as Carlos stared at his broken sword. Terror gripped him as he gapped at the now useless hilt. "How?"

Tobias dusted himself off. "Our little duel ended, so I used my powers to destroy your sword." He walked over to where his short sword lay, stooped down, and picked it up. He turned toward Carlos and grinned menacingly. "Now, if I were as vile as you seem to think me, I would kill you and then that wretched creature." His grin gradually faded into a calmer, almost warm, smile. "But I am a man of my word."

He walked over to the beaten and bloodied man who lay cowering in the alleyway and gave him a sharp kick to the ribs. "Run along, and thank the good man for convincing me to spare you." The terrified man, needing no further urging, scrambled out of the alley past Carlos, never looking back.

The panic the warrior had felt gave way to more mundane confusion. He picked up and eyed one of the shattered pieces of his sword. "If you could have done that all this time, why didn't you during our fight?"

Again, Tobias looked slightly startled by the question. "I gave you my word that I would refrain from using magic, did I not?" Not waiting for a response, he sheathed his short sword, unhooked the scabbard from his belt, and tossed it to Carlos. "Use mine for now, you rely on weapons far more than I."

The warrior opened his mouth to thank him, but was cut off by an irate voice coming from up the street. "What in the Nine Hells is going on here?" Carlos turned to see The Major striding toward them.

His mouth opened slightly, then stopped. A part of his mind searched for the words to say, though most of it was still mulling over Tobias' actions. The man was a murderer and had nearly killed an, for all intents and purposes, innocent man. He had, however, also kept his word when, at any time, he could have turned the fight in his favor. In the end, Carlos' mouth decided on "Nothing, Tobias was just getting some fresh air."

The words had barely left his mouth when The Major snapped at him, cutting him off. "You're lying."

"What?" The warrior was more than a little surprised at being called out so quickly. "How–"

"Have you forgotten what I am? I can smell a lie from a mile away, and you reek of one."

Carlos quickly realized his mistake. Though The Major, like any Royal Vandian Crusader, was a far cry from the valiant and noble paladin of storybooks, he was still a paladin.

The Major's gaze flitted from one convict to the other, his building frustration clearly visible on his face. "Now what happened here?"

Tobias stepped forward and met his jailor's eyes with his own. "I got into a fight with a local ruffian," he gestured to Carlos, " but the good 'knight in shining armor' here convinced me to spare him."

For a brief moment a look of anger flickered across The Major's face before it was quickly replaced by a stern, though otherwise unreadable, expression. "Get back to the inn and get some sleep. We move out at dawn."

Carlos and Tobias both nodded and moved to head to the inn, but a mailed hand clamped down on the latter's shoulder. The paladin and the murderer glared at each other for a few, silent seconds. The tension in the air was palpable and Carlos was sure for a brief moment that violence would ensue.

However, The Major merely continued in a low, threatening voice. "And Ladimor, if you even think of pulling a stunt like that again, I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand."

The older man calmly bowed his head. "I understand."

The Major's armored hand dropped to his side, though neither his gaze nor his austere tone relented. "Now get out of my sight."

With a curt nod the two did so, leaving their jailor behind with all due haste. The murderer and the mercenary walked in silence until they were well out of earshot of The Major. Tobias, without even turning to face his fellow convict, said in a matter of fact tone, "You should not have lied to him."

Carlos looked over at him, an eyebrow raised and a bemused expression on his face. "Why? Because he can discern lies?"

The murderer shook his head, though his gaze remained locked straight ahead. "No, it is a simple spell and I could have fooled it. You just should not have lied."

"You could have?" Carlos' confusion was steadily growing. Just an hour ago the younger man thought he had the serial killer all figured out, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Yes." He spoke with an indifferent inflection that suggested he did not believe the fact was particularly important. "Those with sufficient strength of will can deceive it."

"Then why confess? Why not tell another, different lie? The Major might have punished you severely for fighting that man."

At long last Tobias turned his head to face Carlos, and the warrior saw that he wore on his face a strangely comforting smile. "Child," he said in his calm drawl, "one does not gain a reputation for trustworthiness that spans the Nine Hells by lying under such petty circumstances."

"Wait, you actually have that good a reputation?"

He nodded and, seeing the doubt on Carlos' face, chuckled. "I am no spring chicken, child. I am probably old enough to be your father or perhaps even your grandfather." His laughter faded and he sank into a more solemn tone. "I have traversed the planes, both high and low, since before you were born and, in all likelihood, I will continue to do so long after you are dead and gone."

Carlos frowned. "Good Gods. Why did I try to lie for the likes of you?" He let his head lean back and again spoke to no one but the cold night air. "Am I going insane?"

It was not, however, the cold night air that responded. "I have long since learned to recognize my own kind and trust me, child, you are not one of us." A chill ran down the warrior's spine as a slight chuckle drifted past his ears. He slowly turned and saw the gleam of a maniacal grin in the darkness. "Yet."

By the time the two of them reached the inn, the fighting had died down. Only a few drunkards in various states of consciousness remained in the otherwise empty bar. Carlos trudged up the rickety stairs to their room and flopped down on one of the two beds in the room. It was about as soft as a stone wall, but after more than a week of bivouacking in open fields in between long marches, he honestly didn't care. It was a bed, and that was good enough for him.

Drowsiness descended on his mind like a massive blanket, smothering his thoughts. One worry, however, refused to be silenced and managed to escape his mouth. "So Tobias, do I have your guarantee that you won't try to slit my throat in my sleep?"

The Mist Hunter smiled and waved a hand dismissively at the inquiring warrior as he began snuffing out the candles that lit the room. "You need not worry about that." He sat down on the second bed on the far side of the room. "When I kill you it will be in open, honorable combat."

Carlos' mind was about to slide into a blissful sleep when suddenly it snapped to attention. There was just something about the comment that didn't sit well with him. He rolled the words over in his head, then sat up and turned to face Tobias. "When? You mean if."

The older man smiled back at him and, in the most reassuring way possible, said, "No, I mean when."

"That..." Carlos managed to stutter out, "that's not exactly comforting."

"The truth rarely is." He snuffed out the last candle, plunging the room into darkness. "Goodnight Carlos."

Soon afterward, the warrior could hear Tobias' breathing settle into the telltale raspy rhythm of sleep. Carlos however, did not find sleep easily. The drowsiness that had weighed down on him only moments before had fled, leaving in its place a haunting suspicion that the murderer had every intention of keeping his word.

Elsewhere in the inn, sleep, and the horrors it carried with it, had seized a far less willing victim.

She looked down at her hands, tiny, slender things, then out into the darkness that veiled the world around her. Even the ground she stood on seemed to be nothing more than an extension of the void. The girl, had she been human, could not have been more than three years of age. Her sky blue eyes shimmered and tears threatened to roll down her cheeks as she stumbled trembling through the darkness.

The child suddenly came to a stop as a steel gray shape emerged from the night that shrouded all else. It plodded along on four heavy paws, bearing it forward at a slow, gentle gait.

Instead of fleeing from it, the girl dashed toward it with a desperation only an abandoned child could muster. She slammed into the side of the wolf with a muffled thud, clutching desperately at the thick gray coat. "Please, don't go." She buried her face in the warm fur. "I'm scared."

The edges of the wolf's mouth tugged back slowly and it gave the frightened girl a warm, comforting smile. After a moment it spoke and its soft voice seemed to radiate through the void, banishing all traces of doubt and fear just as a flame would beat back the shadows. "Fear not little one, I'm not going to leave you alone."

"Thank you." Steadying slightly, the girl smiled weakly and tried to hug the wolf, though her slender arms didn't even make it halfway around the massive beast.

"And the sad little whelp says 'thank you' like a proper dog."

The girl winced when she heard the grating voice from above and the wolf's head snapped around to face its source. An eagle with tarnished gold feathers glided silently out of the darkness and landed next to the terrified child. It leaned in close and glared daggers at her with chilling blue eyes. If it had lips they would have no doubt been frozen in a perpetual frown.

Instead, it settled for words of scorn. "Pitiful creature, you are a disgrace."

A low snarl issuing from its throat, the wolf maneuvered in between the eagle and the girl, meeting the massive raptor's cold gaze with its own. The bird hopped back and came to rest a few feet further away from the cowering child.

"Be silent." The wolf moved to shield her from the eagle's eyes. "Torment her no more."

The great golden bird let out a short squawk and gave its wings a light flutter. "Torment her no more? We won't get anywhere if you're always there to hold her hand." It shifted impatiently back and forth from one glistening talon to the other. "At this rate we'll be stuck like this till we die." Its voice was harsh and unyielding, like a hammer striking an anvil.

"And what would you have me do? Leave her to suffer?"

The wolf glanced back at the child that clung to its fur. Feeling its warm gaze upon her, the child looked up into the wolf's eyes. She quickly and desperately shook her head before burying her face in the fur once more.

"No. I cannot. I will not."

The eagle darted closer, bringing its sleek head alongside the wolf's and hissing its words into the large gray ears. "You are merely prolonging her suffering. A coward dies a thousand deaths." It scampered forward and turned sharply on one of its talons, training its icy gaze upon the girl. "Leave her. Let her face it herself. Only then can we be whole."

For a brief moment the wolf faltered, as if unsure of how to respond. "She's not ready. We should–"

An aggravated squawk cut the wolf off. The eagle ruffled its wings again and shook its head. "It's been over a hundred years! A century of this cursed existence, torn every which way like the last scrap of meat at a feast of vultures!" It hopped closer to the wolf and glared straight into its eyes, its tone dropping into inhumanly cold territory. "She will never be ready unless we force her to be." It tilted its head to the side. "How do you teach a hatchling to fly? You throw it from the nest and say fly."

With those words the massive raptor lunged forward. The wolf moved to block it, but the bird nimbly threaded its way past fang and fur and leapt at the girl, grasping her shoulders in its outstretched talons. The terrified child cried out, but her voice was lost on the wind as the eagle beat its enormous wings, leaving the ground and the wolf far behind. The bird craned its neck to look at the girl, who sobbed as it lifted her higher and higher into the void. The eagle's eyes were devoid of anything resembling regret or mercy, and a casual onlooker would only have seen the ice that seemed to radiate from the cold blue irises. But buried beneath the frost that clung to its gaze was something far more dangerous: Love.

"Fly, little bird. Fly."

The talons that dug into her shoulders suddenly released the child, sending her plummeting screaming into the abyss. As she fell a massive hand, darker than even the inky world through which she tumbled, reached up to meet her. The black hand's long, viciously hooked claws closed around the girl, veiling the void in a curtain of even deeper darkness and snuffing out the last, fleeting embers of sanity. A chill that sank into her very bones welled up in its place, suffocating her mind with grief and fear.

The raw, primal terror that the chill carried with it was too much for the child. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping, begging for the torment to end.

When, at long last, she opened them she was awake in her bed, the first rays of dawn slowly creeping up from below the horizon, painting the gray peaks of the Duskfang Mountains a deep orange.

She sat up slowly. The dream, the same one that had plagued her for a century, was too common an occurrence for her to wake up with a start. She looked down at her slender, almost spindly, hands, which still clutched at the rough sheets as if her life depended on it. Summoning all of her willpower, she gradually forced her trembling fingers to relax their death grip.

She could still hear them. Their voices echoed back and forth in her ears, though they were subdued now, like listening to a conversation in another room. One soft and calm, like a fine fur rug stretched out before a crackling fireplace, the other firm and sharp, like the snapping of a pincer or a beak. But beneath the bickering, the third still gnawed at the back of her mind, its claws dragging long gashes down her spine. She shivered, resisting the decades old temptation to glance back over her shoulder.

"There's nothing there." Her voice wavered as she tried desperately tried to soothe herself. She smiled weakly and ran her fingers through her hair, clutching at the sides of her skull. "There's never anything there." The smile warped into a grimace and her nails dug into her temples hard enough to draw blood. "It's all up here. It's always up here."


	4. Trial by Fire

Chapter Four: Trial by Fire

"_No matter how great and destructive your problems may seem now, remember, you've probably only seen the tip of them." – Despair Inc._

A golden eagle glided just beneath the treetops in the dim morning light, its sky blue eyes surveying the ground below. Though the unusually large bird appeared out of place in the dense foliage, it nimbly darted around the colossal redwoods with agility that better suited a thrush. It rounded a particularly large trunk and began slowly descending through the canopy. As it neared the forest floor it broke into a clearing through which ran a seldom trodden dirt road. It touched down, a short hop and a flutter spoiling its otherwise graceful landing. The bird looked up at the others who milled about the clearing. Two wore armor, though one was encased by significantly more than the other, while a third wore a long, heavily worn coat as black as his hair over a suit of light and flexible leather armor. The fourth, the only woman among those who stood, wore a singed, aging robe about which the most polite thing that could be said was 'it had seen better days.'

Twitches and spasms ran through the eagle's body, as if something within it was struggling to escape. Its body twisted and grew, its wings narrowing into slender arms and its talons lengthening into legs. A tiny metal loop that encircled one of the bird's legs seemed to melt as the limb grew. It trickled up along the rapidly changing body to one of the newly formed arms, were it coiled itself around the wrist and sank into the flesh. Three of the four who watched did so with indifference, though the more lightly armored man appeared slightly unnerved by the transformation. While Carlos had seen shape changing magic at work before, watching it up close still never failed to disturb him. The eagle's beak shrank into nothingness and the tarnished golden feathers on its head thinned and grew into locks of dirty blonde hair. The eyes, however, remained sky blue as the bird became an elven woman clad in armor made of animal hides.

Aleera faced her jailor. "We have company. Bellicosians."

One of The Major's eyebrows rose, though his face remained otherwise impassive. "Where and how many?"

"Two, maybe three." She pointed into the undergrowth in the direction she had flown in from. "Off the road to the north."

The paladin turned to face Tobias and Sarah and jerked his head northward. "Deal with them." The two convicts nodded and the former flashed a malicious grin. Seeing the smile, The Major quickly added, "And I want them alive. We need to know where the rest of them are hiding."

Upon hearing this, a look of disappointment flickered across the serial killer's face before he vanished in a plume of black fire and brimstone. The alchemist merely rolled her eyes at her compatriot's displeasure before likewise fading from sight.

A minute later a scream of pain echoed through the forest, sending a number of birds that sat in the canopy fluttering from their perches. Some, songbirds mostly, flew away from the cry, while others, mostly pitch-black ravens, flocked to the noise. Silence, broken only by the calls of birds, descended on the forest in the minute that followed. Rustling in the undergrowth on the side of the road put Carlos on edge, and he placed a hand on the handle of the short sword Tobias had given him the night before and now sat in a sheath at his side.

He lowered the hand when an indignant looking Sarah stepped out of the foliage, followed shortly afterward by a tall, brown haired man with a sword on his belt and a bow slung over his back. His eyes stared forward vacantly and his movements seemed far too stiff to be anything but forced. The sight made Carlos pause. Though he was slightly larger than the average man, as Bellicosians generally were, he did not look all that different from a native of Halcyon.

"So, this is the face of our enemy," he muttered to himself.

A moment later Tobias walked out into the clearing as well, dragging by the collar the body of a man similarly equipped to his vacant eyed counterpart. This one, however, had a look of pain and terror frozen on his face and a sizzling black hole burned through the center of his chest.

The Major shook his head as he looked down at the corpse. He gestured idly with one hand as he spoke and the irritation in his voice built with each word that left his mouth. "Now, my memory is not what it used to be, but I distinctly recall saying I wanted them alive."

Tobias nodded his head toward the stupefied prisoner. "This one is."

Sarah shot a contemptuous glare at the murderer. "No thanks to you."

He met her piercing gaze with his own and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "I did not know my target would die so easily."

The alchemist's eyes remained fixed on Tobias and she quickly rounded on him. "You shot him. In the back. Through the heart. At point blank range. Twice." Her frustration finally boiled through her cold veneer and she threw her arms up in the air. "What did you think would happen?!"

The murderer opened his mouth to shoot back a barbed retort, but the stern voice of The Major cut him off. "Shut it, both of you." The paladin strode over to and smiled at the vacant eyed man. "Now tell me, where are your former comrades?"

"They're camped near-"

A sharp whistle sliced through the air and a slender, oaken arrow lodged itself in the captured Bellicosian's neck. A geyser of blood shot from the wound and the man collapsed like a marionette that had its strings cut. Carlos swung his shield down from where it hung on his back just in time to catch a second arrow in the heavy wooden disk. A third arrow came sailing in out of the undergrowth, this time toward Tobias, but the spry old man ducked the shot and, with a flick of the wrist, sent a bolt of pure darkness lancing back along the path the arrow had traced. An agonized scream ripped through the forest as the black beam sliced into the undergrowth followed by total silence.

When no further arrows flew from the foliage at them Carlos slowly relaxed. Tobias lowered his outstretched arm and calmly strolled over to the patch of the undergrowth he had fired into. The younger warrior hurried after him but soon regretted it. In a small opening just off the road lay the body of a man who wore cloths and gear similar to the first two they had found. This one, however, stank of burnt meat and boiled flesh. The man's face was marred by a smoldering black burn that had cooked away his skin, hair, and eyes. The only visible feature on his head was his blackened jaw, which hung agape in a silent cry of pain.

Tobias smiled down at the corpse, admiring his own handiwork, though Carlos merely let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. "Not again." He looked over to where the serial killer stood over his latest victim. "Tobias, could you please, just for once, resist the urge to brutally maim everyone you come across."

"Well, since you asked so nicely, I will put it under advisement."

Tobias stooped down and took the sheath and long sword that the Bellicosian had worn on his belt. He handed the sword to Carlos, who accepted with a nod and clipped it to his own belt. The warrior then gave the serial killer back the short sword that he had been lent the night before. The two walked back out into the clearing and Carlos, upon seeing three inquisitive pairs of eyes gazing back at him, shook his head.

Sarah turned to face The Major. She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder at Tobias. "Well, since the psycho here just toasted our only remaining lead, now what?"

The paladin appeared entirely unconcerned by the turn of events. "Plan B." He looked over to Aleera who, after a moment's hesitation, nodded back.

The druidess closed her eyes and began whispering smooth, elven incantations. As she did, her face elongated into a muzzle and her skin grew a coat of gray fur. She dropped to all fours, her hands and feet thickening into paws. The animal hides she wore merged into her own, disappearing entirely. The metal band that encircled her wrist, however, did not vanish along with the rest of her gear. Instead, it appeared to melt and flow up along the rapidly thickening fur to coil around neck.

The wolf that now stood where before there had been an elf lowered its nose to sniff the body of one of the fallen Bellicosians. Aleera turned and, guided by unseen signs, trotted off into the forest. As the remaining four humans followed the wolf, Carlos saw Sarah smirk and open her mouth to speak. The warrior had a feeling that he knew exactly what the smart-mouth alchemist would say and he really wasn't in the mood for it.

He cut her off before she could utter a single syllable. "Don't."

"What?" The young wizard looked more than a little bit annoyed at the interruption.

"I know what you were going to call her. Don't." Carlos was quite pleased to see the startled expression on Sarah's face. She was surprised that the warrior had been able to guess what she was going to say, but quickly replaced the look with a sterner, defensive veneer.

After composing herself, the alchemist managed to shoot back, "But now she really is a nosy bitch."

Carlos let out an exasperated sigh. "That doesn't mean you need to say it. If you're not careful that big mouth of yours will get you killed."

She scoffed at the suggestion and said, in a haughty voice, "I'd like to see someone try."

"I did." Tobias chimed in from behind them.

Sarah glared over her shoulder back at him. "And you failed."

The serial killer nodded. "Perhaps, but next time I will not."

Her eyes narrowed at the murderer. "Is that a threat?"

"No." He flashed a chillingly confident smile. "It is merely a fact."

Once again Tobias had demonstrated his aptitude in the murder of all things, his words effectively killing the conversation for the rest of their trek through the woods. The convicts and their jailor wound their way through the towering trees, rising up the side of one of the many mountains that formed the Duskfang range. Massive redwoods gradually gave way to cold, gray granite and jagged cliffs. When they at last came to a halt it was overlooking a small gully that looked as if had been sculpted by a massive river of ice that had long since passed. As he looked down into the ravine, however, Carlos could make out a number of shapes moving amongst a cluster of tents. They were warriors, ones similarly armed and equipped to the Bellicosians they had killed earlier.

"The lion's den." The Major smiled and gave Aleera a curt nod. "Good work."

An eager grin spread across Tobias' face and he held one of his hands. "Let the carnage begin." He wreathed his hand in plume of black flame that crackled with glee, mirroring the expression on its master's face.

A mailed hand rose to hold the murderer back. "No." Tobias gave The Major a confused look, though it faded as the paladin continued. "The druidess led us here, I think she should have the honor of exterminating this little nest of vermin."

Aleera's soft eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and she gaped at her jailor. "What?! You can't be serious!" She frantically waved a hand in the direction of the Bellicosian camp. "I can't take on all of them!"

"You can and you will." The Major's eyes narrowed and his tone became markedly more severe. "I would also suggest you refrain from questioning my orders."

"Or what?" she snapped back. "You'll kill me? If I go down there I'm just as dead."

The Major calmly shook his head. "You sell yourself far too short." He flashed a frightening grin. "And I never said anything about killing _you_." His eyes swiveled to meet Carlos'.

Before the warrior could say a word, his mind was practically ground to a pulp under a deluge of pure, undiluted agony. In a tiny corner of his head, Carlos felt his hands shot up to and grip his scalp. His knees buckled and failed, sending him falling toward the cold ground. He might have been screaming all the while, he honestly did not know or care. It felt as though a white-hot poker had been rammed into his skull and was stirring his brain, boiling it and all of his thoughts away.

Even through the pain, Carlos could hear a voice at his side. "No!" Though it was muffled by the avalanche of mind numbing agony, he could still hear the terror that tainted it. "Stop!"

A second voice drifted through his reeling mind, this one as cold and firm as the rocks the warrior lay on. "Only you can stop this and only by obeying my orders."

The pain intensified, crashing into his besieged mind like the ocean waves pounding against a cliff face. Everything burned. His throat, and lungs were a blazing inferno screaming for air and water as his mouth screamed unrestrainedly. The world hurtled past his eyes, rolling back and forth as spasms shot through his wildly thrashing body.

"Fine, I'll do it! Just stop hurting him!"

Just as suddenly as it had beset him, the pain that was drowning the warrior's mind vanished. Slowly, timidly, his mind crawled its way back into his skull. Carlos looked about, still trembling from the ordeal. The first of the others he saw was Aleera, whose arms had caught him before he had gone farther than merely dropping to his knees.

Sarah stood not far away, though from the way she now carried herself she might as well have been a completely different person. Her confidence and haughty attitude were gone and she now looked more than a little unsettled, an expression that appeared severely out of place on the drug runner's face. Tobias sat on a large rock like a great black buzzard watching him struggle to stand with mild indifference.

The Major wore a satisfied smile on his face. "Excellent."

Aleera glared back at him while she helped the quivering warrior to his feet. "Whatever happened to paladins being beacons of good?"

"Child," Tobias chimed in from his perch, "our dear Major is a Royal Vandian Crusader. They serve the King first, the law second, and the people last. 'Good' is not in their vocabulary, only tyranny."

Her glare shifted toward the murderer, and she opened her mouth to say something but her breath caught in her throat, her entire body stiffened, and her eyes widened in terror. When she managed to speak, it was so softly that only Carlos was close enough to hear her. "No, not now. Of all times, not now and not you!"

Equal parts desperation and dread had seeped into her voice, making the words sound more like a plea to a distant god than a response to the murder's interjection. A deluge of questions buried his mind upon hearing her mumbling, though one stood above the rest. Who was she speaking of? Tobias? He looked searchingly up at her face. If so then why were her eyes clouded with fear instead of frustration or resentment? And if she was speaking of someone else, then who?

She blinked.

When she opened her eyes a split-second later they mirrored the psychopath's in intensity and soulless composure, a feat that left the mercenary speechless. All vestiges of the doubt and fear that had weighed on her features vanished, leaving in its wake a spine chilling frost in her gaze.

He saw no more, as at that moment Aleera unceremoniously tossed him aside like a sack of potatoes and turned away. The warrior's legs, still unsteady from The Major's rampage through his skull, bowed under his weight and sent him toppling back down toward the dirt, though this time he had his arms to catch himself. Carlos looked over to watch her leave, still more than a little shocked by the sudden change that had washed over the elf.

She stormed past the others without so much as a glance in their direction, as if she no longer knew or cared if any of her fellows even existed. With a muttered elvish phrase her skin rippled and hardened into stone as cold and gray as the ground she crossed. As she neared the edge she showed no sign of slowing. Without hesitation she stepped out into midair and found solid footing in the open air.

While the other convicts watched, Aleera strode out into the air above the gully. The Bellicosians, no doubt having been tipped off by Carlos' agonized screams, were alert and quickly spotted her hovering well above them. The first few who raised their bows did not even manage to loose the arrows, the bow shafts contorting into a collection of useless coils of wood with a mere wave of one of the druidess' willowy hands.

The floating elf dropped from the sky and landed amongst the startled archers, most of whom were still busy gaping at their mutilated bows, with unnatural grace. She placed her palms on the stone and a ripple shot through the rock accompanied by a resounding gong. The ground warped, rolled, and rushed upward, carrying her skyward atop granite spire the zenith of which expanded outward into an enormous disk. The pillar that held the edifice aloft thinned at an alarming rate even as the burden it carried grew.

When the stone finally settled into place only a matter of seconds after Aleera had landed it stood as a massive slab above the archer's heads supported only by a pencil thin column that immediately broke under the strain. The chunk of rock plummeted down and slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch, mashing those standing beneath it into a thick red paste and splattering the surrounding dirt with blood. Aleera herself, however, did not fall with it and instead hung suspended in the air once more.

Raw, divine energy rolled forth from her palms like water from a spring as she drew intricate patterns in the air around her, like a conductor guiding an orchestra of elemental fury. The wind followed the motions of her slender arms, whipping about her and howling through the ravine. Pieces of the camp and even a few of the soldiers were swept up, tossed about, and smashed into the stone walls by the gale as a vicious storm sprang to life with Aleera as its eye. The afternoon sky darkened to steel gray and shards of ice poured forth from the churning clouds, eagerly burying themselves in any Bellicosian skull they could find. A nest of stone spikes burst up from the gully floor and skewered a number of warriors unlucky enough to be standing where they formed.

One of the soldiers began howling above the wind in a tongue that Carlos did not understand, though it was clear he was trying desperately to rally his comrades. Aleera raised one of her arms skyward and a brilliant bolt of lightning answered her call. It lanced down out of the darkening sky and stuck the man who stood madly shouting to his fellows. He dropped to the ground, his skin and clothing charred beyond recognition, and the gale scooped up his lifeless corpse, sending it hurtling through the air and deftly impaling it on one of the many stone spikes that now littered the ravine. Upon seeing this, a few tried to turn and run but a second, third, and countless more bolts of lightning arced down and reduced each to a smoldering black husk.

Carlos gaped at the carnage in the gully below. "How does she do that?"

"As I said, you each have your talents." The Major gestured idly toward the floating druidess. "Though she may not put much stock in her own abilities, they are quite formidable." His head turned toward the warrior, a slight smirk on his face. "She merely needed the proper motivation."

"Then why am I here?" He waved an arm in the direction of Tobias and Sarah, who sat watching the butchery. "The rest of you wield magic with some skill but I'm just a thug, a pretty good one if I say so myself, but nothing extraordinary."

The paladin chuckled at the claim at first, but in the silence that followed his amused expression shifted to one of mild confusion. "You honestly believe that? You don't know?" His smile slowly returned when he received no response from the bewildered convict. "You really don't know. Interesting."

The warrior's eyes narrowed, the paladin's smug sense of superiority was quickly getting on his nerves. "What are you babbling about?"

"Don't worry, you'll find out for yourself soon enough." He gave Carlos a dismissive wave of his hand and turned back toward the slaughter that lay before them. "For now, just sit back and enjoy the show."

The Major smiled as he saw Aleera wave one of her hands, causing a trio of enormous wolves to spring into being. The massive beasts appeared to have growths of bone jutting out from their backs and were far larger than any wolf Carlos had ever seen. They rushed forward, joining the fray and shredding any hapless Bellicosians they caught in their jaws.

"We'll make a killer out of her yet."

A half dozen of the soldiers who stood their ground managed to sling bows off their backs and loosed a volley of arrows at the floating elf. The arrowheads, however, could not bite into her and instead skittered of her granite skin without so much as making a dent. Aleera, caught up in the symphony of destruction, merely waved an arm in their direction. The ground beneath them liquefied, turning into a watery mud that they sank up to their waists in. The druidess' head snapped around to glare at them, her eyes radiating wild, untamed power, and spat out an elvish phrase that was quickly lost on the wind. The mud the Bellicosians stood in hardened into stone, leaving them trapped in the ground itself. The hurricane force winds whipped up the pebbles that littered the ground creating a veritable tempest of dirt and gravel that engulfed the half buried soldiers, scouring the flesh from their bones. Their gurgling screams as they were skinned alive could be heard even above the howling wind and when the tornado of stone shards finally moved on it left nothing but a collection of bloodstained skeletons in its wake.

Carlos closed his eyes and shook his head, trying not to watch someone who he had thought of as an ingenuous child massacre countless strangers. "She didn't kill Bly, she was innocent."

The Major didn't so much as bat an eye. "I know."

"Wait, you do?"

"Yes, as do my superiors," a smirk tugged at the corners of the paladin's mouth, "and the court that convicted her in the first place."

Sarah, an eyebrow raised, glared askance at the paladin. "Then why is she here?"

"Because she's useful. Those Commonwealth fools let a marvelous druid fall right into our hands. Once we framed her for the murder that Ladimor so generously provided us with, it was a simple matter of arranging a guilty verdict so that she could be placed in one of these parole groups. Here, her abilities can be put to good use killing those Bellicosian wretches instead of tending to rotting trees and sickly beasts back in her farce of a homeland."

The alchemist's eyes flitted back to the tempest that raged below. "If she's so powerful then why didn't they try to get her back?"

"Because all power has a price, child." Tobias wore a disturbingly knowing smile on his face, though his gaze remained locked on the scene in the ravine. "But that price is not always physical."

Sarah shot the murder a contemptuous look and snapped at him with unmitigated scorn. "Thank you for that wonderfully quaint answer." She turned expectantly to The Major, still waiting for her answer. "Well?"

"Because, though they may be formidable druids, those treehuggers are weaklings at heart. They're cowards, afraid of drawing first blood when, in reality, they have the power to simply do as they please. The buffoons just sit on their hands, paralyzed by the idea that they might be in the wrong. 'Power corrupts' and all that nonsense." He let out a short scoff as he spoke the phrase. "What's the point of power if you don't use it?"

Carlos glared at his jailor, his eyes narrowing in disdain to match his tone. "And how are you so sure that you're doing the right thing?"

The contempt in his voice rolled off the paladin like water off a duck's back leaving The Major unfazed and, in fact, smiling. "Because I have the strength to do something in the first place, because the power is mine to wield as I see fit. Might makes right. The Royal Vandian Crusaders are strength incarnate and thus virtue incarnate. It only took one of our number to subdue each of–" He hesitated for a moment and his eyes darted to meet an intent steel gaze before continuing. "Most of you, and therefore we had every right to."

The winds in the gully subsided, revealing the true extent of the carnage. Only a tiny number of recognizable corpses remained, the majority of the Bellicosians having been ripped to shreds by howling wolves and wind or ground to a pulp under the relentless barrage of ice and rock. The gale had splattered the gulch walls with blood, soaking the stone and painting the gray rock deep crimson. Aleera herself hung suspended in the air above the massacre, the hides she wore stained with the blood of the red geysers her victims had become. Slowly, her every step adding an unseen weight to her slender shoulders, the elf walked through the empty air back to her fellow convicts until her feet met solid ground once again. Flecks of blood peppered her pale face as she glared accusingly at The Major, bearing in her eyes a contempt that Carlos was shocked to see in the piteous wisp of a girl.

The ice in her gaze seemed to seep into her voice as she snapped at her jailor. "There, I've slaughtered men and women that I had no quarrel with for you. Are you happy now you sick bastard?"

"Ecstatic."

With a smile on his face, The Major turned and walked downhill along the rim of the gully.

As the convicts followed suit, Carlos hurried to catch up with Tobias. After a moment of walking in silence he turned to the older man. "What did you mean earlier about the price of power?"

The serial killer smiled at the question. "I meant exactly what I said and said exactly what I meant." He glanced back in the direction of Aleera, who trailed behind the others.

The elf was shivering noticeably and focusing intently upon the ground beneath her feet. The cold, calculating glare had fled from her eyes, leaving behind the those of a frightened and confused child. For the second time since they had arrived in Warren's Fall, Carlos found himself wondering how such confidence could simply appear out of thin air and vanish just as quickly.

Tobias' smile broadened into a grin. "I told you before, I know my own kind when I see them."

After a moment of thought the warrior slowed his pace, falling behind Tobias until Aleera caught up with him. It took a few seconds for her to notice him, and in that time Carlos saw something in her eyes he had not noticed before. While they where still the eyes of a restless child, he could see something beneath that. Though she may have been walking beside him, her mind was somewhere else entirely and, for an instant, he caught a glimpse of its aim. She was concentrating on something, as if trying to pin down an errant idea or pen in a rampaging and unwelcome thought. Noticing him at last, she turned toward him with a start but calmed when she saw Carlos looking back at her.

"Thanks." He jerked his head back in the direction from whence they came. "For what you did back there."

She managed a smile but shook her head. "It was nothing."

"I would hardly call it that, you kept The Major from killing me."

"I didn't really have much of a choice."

Carlos shrugged. "You could have just let me die." He had known quite a few people in his time who would have done so.

Aleera's eyes lost focus and for an instant the warrior could see in them a change, a sort of mental handoff like a blink in the mind instead of the eyelids. When they dialed back into focus the change had washed over the rest of her features, making them softer and yet stronger at the same time. The confidence that her eyes had held returned, though it was now calm, warm, and comforting rather than the cold, calculating glare he had seen before. Her smile steadied.

"That wasn't an option."

The reassuring and consoling empathy that practically radiated from the druidess startled Carlos. How could one woman have so many conflicting facets to her?

The five eventually reached the mouth of the ravine and, following The Major's lead, doubled back to survey the massacre up close. Only a few recognizable pieces remained and the largest of them immediately drew Carlos' attention.

The Bellicosian's left arm had been suddenly and violently wrenched out of its socket leaving strands of torn muscle, sinew, and shreds of skin mingling with the blood that spurted from the empty shoulder. He was a little bit taller than Carlos and his hair might have been equally brown, though it could have merely been colored by the soup of blood, grime, mud that soaked it. His remaining hand tightly gripped an immense stone spike that jutted out from a hole clean through is stomach just below the ribcage, no doubt punching through his spine like a fist through wet paper.

And he was still alive.

While Tobias had been proud of his own handiwork, Aleera was horrified by hers. She rushed forward, a soft green glow already radiating from her palms, but a mailed hand clamped down on her shoulder and yanked her to a halt. She looked up and saw The Major stride past her toward the crippled soldier.

When the Bellicosian saw the paladin approaching his lone remaining hand began frantically scrambling for a sword that, though closer than any of the other weapons that littered the ground, still lay tantalizingly out of reach. A thick plate boot slammed down on the impaled man's wrist, snapping the bones like so many twigs and eliciting what might have been a cry of pain, though the blood flooding the man's chest muffled it to the point where it was little more than a pitiful gurgle.

A mailed hand dropped to the man's neck, its fingers curling around a small piece of metal that hung on a rough cord encircling his neck. A sharp tug snapped the cord and brought the bit of metal, a scrap of iron in the shape of a bear's paw, up to The Major's eye.

"Bloodclaws," he said idly as he rolled the insignia over in his grasp, "I thought as much." While he mumbled to himself he almost absentmindedly kicked away the sword that the Bellicosian had been madly clambering for.

The plate encased leg slowly swung around and the heavy boot came to rest atop the impaled man's neck. The Major gradually put more and more of his weight on the boot, eliciting a series of wild thrashes from the dying soldier, who made a weak gargling noise as he struggled desperately to breathe. The Major's face slowly contorted into a mask of pure spite as he crushed the last vestiges of life from the Bellicosian until at last he gave his boot a sharp twist and a nauseating crack flooded the ears of all those present. A final wave of spasms rippled through the impaled man, then he lay still, an expression of terror and desperation etched on his blood spattered face.

The paladin turned and strode past the four convicts. "This is war. Get used to it." Though his eyes never lingered on any of the expressions of horror and hatred that greeted him, his words were obviously directed at them.

The last voice that Carlos expected to object did so. "There is war and there is murder. I know the difference well." Tobias' gaze, vacant and unreadable, remained locked on the corpse. "That was the latter."

Sarah, after taking a moment to set aside her surprise, joined in. "Though I hate to agree with the psychopath, that was uncalled for."

The Major stopped and shot a glare back at them, then held the iron bear's paw up for the others to see. "This insignia marks him as an initiate. The Bellicosians frequently send their new blood out behind our lines to harass us, it forces them to learn how to survive without support. It means that he would know nothing of value."

"And that justifies killing him?"

"Yes."

"Have you no shame? No pity?" The Major glared down at Aleera, though the elf's words did not seem to affect the stone-faced paladin. "Is the idea of showing compassion that alien to you?"

He let out a bitter, mirthless laugh that echoed off the sides of the ravine and for a brief instant it seemed as if the entire world was mocking her question. When it faded, he practically spat his response.

"The world showed no compassion to me."

With that he turned and began the long walk back to Warren's Fall.


	5. Skeletons in the Closet

AN: I'm not dead yet! I don't want to go on the cart!

: Gets hit over the head and thrown on the cart with all the dead bodies :

This may come back to bite me at a later date, but I promise that I won't torture all two of the people who are actually reading this story with six month long breaks between updates anymore. I feel rather ashamed that I have to add an 'anymore' on to the end of that statement. It's like saying "I won't steal lollipops from babies _anymore_."

As with pretty much every chapter so far there are a few pop culture, literary, and other references scattered throughout. Props to whoever notices them. Also, observe my horrific attempts at chapter breaks and despair, for they are signs of the end times.

Chapter Five: Skeletons in the Closet

"_For the shadows see all and they rarely forget every dream that you've had, every act you regret." – Twist of Fate_

The convicts and their jailor trudged into Warren's Fall well after dusk, and the last person Carlos wanted to bother with chose that exact moment to chime in. "Well," said Sarah, "now that that's done, can we get out of this quaint little hole in the ground and on to some place civilized?"

The Major let out a short scoff, though his face remained as cold and humorless as ever. "I would hardly call the nests of vermin that you frequent civilized and no, we're not going anywhere just yet. We won't leave until I receive new orders." He shot a scornful glare in her direction. "Not that someone like you knows anything about actually following orders."

She placed her hands on her hips and met his gaze without any sign of fear or hesitation. Carlos would have found her defiance admirable if it weren't for the fact that he suspected it would get her hurt, or worse.

"Only lemmings follow the orders of others without getting something in return."

"Only fools and the dead think they can last in this world on their own." The crusader's already stern voice dropped into an even more threatening tone as his gaze hardened. "Continue to question me and you will go from being one of the former to one of the latter. We're staying until we're told otherwise."

He turned and stomped off through the front door of the inn without another word.

The four convicts, after a moment's pause, followed the paladin through the doorway. The bar, and indeed most of the ground floor, was practically deserted, with only a handful of patrons eating and drinking in twos and threes. The contrast between the nearly empty bar and the chaos of the previous night was not lost on Carlos, and if the former farmer had to wager a guess it would be that the majority of the patrons were either still nursing their wounds or simply avoiding the inn for a while to avoid picking up wounds of their own.

He looked around the room in time to see The Major disappear up the stairs to the second floor and the rooms therein. Tobias had pulled a disappearing act of his own, and while a part of Carlos wanted to panic at the very idea of the serial killer slipping off into the shadows again, the rest of him did not have the energy for anxiety let alone the will to chase after the older man as he had the night before. Instead, he followed Sarah and Aleera, who were making a beeline for one of the many open tables.

"Why are you so eager to leave?" he idly asked of the alchemist as he pulled up a chair and collapsed into it. "I thought you would enjoy staying in a town chock full of idiots you could swindle out of a few miserable copper pieces."

"Oh, its not the people." Sarah took a seat and glared back at him. "No matter where I go, I never have to look far in search of a moron."

The malice that she aimed in his direction did not last, quickly fading into an odd expression of solemnity as she scanned the faces of each of the other patrons scattered throughout the inn's ground floor.

"It's just that I have a feeling."

After a momentary pause, Aleera leaned forward and asked of her "What feeling?"

"You know," she said with a dismissive wave of a hand as her gaze continued to wander about the room

Silence followed, in which Carlos and Aleera glanced at each other, exchanging perplexed looks and shrugs before turning back to Sarah.

"You don't know." The drug runner sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "How either of you survived up until now is beyond me. The feeling that we're being watched."

Feeling rather disappointed at her response after she had piqued his curiosity, the warrior parroted her dismissive tone of moments ago. "You're being paranoid."

* * *

Atop the building across the street from the inn sat a lone figure, veiled by shadows that he wore with the same nonchalance and familiarity that one would wear a favorite hat. The man stared intently through one of the inn's many windows, focusing on a particular group of three as they walked up to and sat down at one of its tables.

He turned to look over his shoulder, his gaze now cast searchingly out into the night. "I know you're there, show yourself."

And the night replied.

"You have exceptional hearing, I did not think that you would be able to detect my approach." Out of the darkness materialized a second figure slightly shorter and wirier than the first. "I must say I am impressed."

"I have no quarrel with you."

"I am well aware of that, it has been an age since the Syndicate sent anyone for me so chances are that is not why you are here." The newcomer paused, as if pondering something, before continuing. "Though I cannot help but wonder, why did the river of hounds sent to hunt me dry up?"

"After you strung the pieces of the fifth up in front of the Wyrd Spire the higher-ups got wise. They realized that you were like a boulder in the middle of the road, if you charge at it and pound your fists against it you'll only hurt yourself. Better to walk around and avoid it altogether. Besides, it actually served as good motivation for our agents to keep their activities out of the spotlight." The first figure chuckled softly. "If they don't, the Mist Hunter will come for them."

The newcomer flashed a maniacal grin that gleamed in the night and bowed deeply. "While I feel honored to have been awarded the same status as the proverbial bogeyman hiding under the bed and just waiting for the chance to butcher any incompetents, I do very much miss the days when my prey sought me out instead of the other way around."

"All good things must come to an end."

"Indeed."

Silence followed and lingered in the darkness for several minutes until the first figure spoke up again.

"As for my business here–"

"I will not interfere."

"Really?"

"Yes." The second figure slowly rose up into the night air, his feet leaving the roof behind. "Do as you will, it is not my concern." The darkness swallowed him up and he vanished from sight.

Alone once more, the shadow turned back toward the inn and the three within. After a moment's pause he pushed off from the roof and dropped down to the ground below. He landed softly like an immense, sinister cat and made his way toward the inn's front door.

* * *

"Paranoia is thinking the world is out to get you. I _know_ the world is out to get me, so why don't you take your carelessness and shove it–"

Sarah's voice trailed off and her eyes strayed from Carlos, focusing instead on something over his shoulder and widening appreciably.

"Oh no."

"What?" Carlos turned and looked back over his shoulder, his eyes seeking out what had drawn hers.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he did.

The man who now stood behind him had been so silent in his approach that he might as well have simply materialized out of thin air. However, aside from the fact that he had spontaneously appeared, the newcomer was remarkable only in that he was completely unremarkable. He had dark hair, was of strictly average height and build, and while he certainly wasn't handsome, he wasn't particularly ugly either.

He was less than merely ordinary, he was downright boring to the point of being completely forgettable.

The man wore a smirk on his face as he regarded Sarah. "Well, well, if it isn't the Old Man's favorite failure. Still selling those pitiful opiates?" He immediately answered his own question with poorly concealed scorn and a snap of his fingers. "Oh wait, of course you're not. You bungled that one too."

In a heartbeat the drug runner managed to regain her usual calm, conceited, and in Carlos' opinion aggravating to no end, attitude. She stood up from where she sat and walked around the table toward the man. "Malakai, I thought I smelled stupidity. Of all the Syndicate's hounds, you're the one they sent after me?" She slowly shook her head. "I'm insulted, I thought they had a higher opinion of me."

The plain looking man merely shrugged, though his unwavering and seemingly unblinking gaze remained on Sarah as the two began circling each other like a pair of wild animals squaring off. "Who would you have preferred? Jericho? The Old Man himself perhaps?" He scoffed at the notion. "They have more important things to do than run around Halcyon looking for your sorry hide."

"Well, I'm glad to see that you still get your kicks from licking the geezer's boot." The drug runner's smile became increasingly mirthless, resembling a sneer more and more as the moments passed. "As they say, the more things change..."

This elicited a chuckle from the man. "And I'm glad to see that no one has cut out that sharp tongue of yours yet, that is a privilege I reserve for myself. After all, your fellow crows won't want it, that would be cannibalism."

"A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours," she immediately snapped back.

"A beast am I?" He placed one of his hands on his chest and flashed a disgustingly insincere expression of shock and offense. "And after all we've been through? You wound me."

Though Sarah's hands remained at her sides, tiny arcs of dazzling blue electricity began dancing between her fingers, making faint snapping and popping noises as they did. "Only if I miss."

The man came to a halt and leaned a bit closer to her, his feigned surprise evaporating and leaving a broad grin in its place. "Considering your track record, I don't think I have much to worry about in that case."

At first Carlos thought that this 'Malakai' wasn't fully aware of the danger he was courting, but as he watched the man's face he saw something that made him think again. In the tiniest, nearly undetectable moment the mediocre man's eyes darted down to look at the miniscule bolts bridging the gaps between Sarah's fingertips before flitting back to glare into her eyes. Had the warrior been standing even a foot further away from the two he doubted he would have been able to seen the glance or the faint upward twitch at the edges of Malakai's grin that followed it.

The man's eyes narrowed and he silently mouthed two words at her.

'Try it.'

As Carlos watched the scene unfold, he shifted slightly so that he could see into Sarah's eyes and saw therein a familiar sight, one he had seen many times before in the gazes of those who had made violence their trade. It was a look that brought to mind an image of whirling gears and machinery hard at work as the person took a moment to turn a critical, calculating eye on their predicament.

She clenched her fists, silencing the electricity that arced about her hands, and replaced her angered sneer with her usual haughty expression.

"And considering I'm not a smudge on Elcmar's boot I don't think I have to worry about you."

Malakai let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head, though once again his eyes never strayed from Sarah's. "Again with the bootlicking! It's not my fault I actually know how to do my job, though I probably should have guessed you would be jealous of that."

"I'd sooner be jealous of a kobold."

His grin returned and one of his hands motioned toward her face. "And I can see why you would be."

This seemed to smash her newly recovered veneer of calm and left only indignation behind. She opened her mouth to shoot back something that would have doubtlessly been less than civil, but Malakai cut her off before she could say anything.

"As delightful as suffering through your incoherent attempts to string together insults can be, small talk is not what I came to this pitiful backwater for."

"I'm not afraid of that senile hack and I'm certainly not afraid of a jumped-up errand boy like you so why don't you put your tail squarely between your legs, where it belongs, and run back to the coot you call master."

He took a step back and held up his hands. "Calm down. Despite what you might think, I didn't come here to hurt you this time around. As horribly clichéd as it sounds I came here to warn you."

"About what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"The Old Man had a lot ridding on the opiate shipment that you bungled and you know how he deals with failures. There are three of our hounds here in Warren's Fall, all looking to collect the price on your head."

One of her eyebrows rose at this, though her wariness remained. "Why are you telling me this?"

Malakai smiled again, though this time it was not mocking or smug as his previous ones had been, but rather warm and friendly. "After everything we've been through I felt that you deserved as much."

Sarah was momentarily at a loss for words, something that Carlos had thought he would never live to see. Taken aback by the sincerity in his answer, it took her a few, pregnant seconds to respond and even when she did it was without any of the confidence or edge that her words usually held.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Just as suddenly as it had appeared whatever kindness Malakai had mustered vanished. "No, seriously, don't mention it. If Jericho or the Old Man got wind that I was tipping you off like this they'd have my hide."

"And what might this be?"

The three convicts and Malakai's heads turned to face the new voice's owner. The Major had shed the plate armor that normally encased him, though somehow he managed to remain as imposing as before. Tobias stood beside him and the dichotomy between the cheerfully insane old man and the stone-faced paladin nearly made him laugh.

"Nothing," the mediocre man said with an innocent smile. "Absolutely nothing."

"Good. In that case would you kindly go do absolutely nothing somewhere else." From The Major's tone it was obvious that it wasn't a question but a demand.

"Of course, of course." He bowed deeply and backed away, then turned sharply on his heel and vanished out the door in the blink of an eye.

More than a little perplexed by the entire exchange, Aleera turned toward Sarah. "Who was that exactly?"

The wizard smiled as she gazed off in the direction of the door. "That was Malakai, one of the best backstabbers that money can buy."

"But earlier when you two were talking you said–"

"I say a lot of things, most of them aren't true."

The elf glanced off toward the door as well then looked back at her. "He didn't look the part."

"That's why he's one of the best. You can pass him in the street and a split-second later you'll have completely forgotten everything about him, what he looked like, where he was going." Her lips curled upward into a crooked smile. "Hells, most even forget they ever saw him in the first place."

Carlos opened his mouth, about to say that such an idea as being so plain that he was practically invisible was absurd, but then clamped it shut as the realization dawned on him that he could not for the life of him remember what Malakai had looked like. Every detail about the man ran together in his mind like ink until he couldn't pick out from his memory even a single feature that would set him apart from any other man on the street.

Instead he looked over at The Major. "So, I take it you heard most of what he said."

A curt nod was the only response he got.

"And what are you planning to do with the Syndicate in town?"

The question was greeted by a glare that told all present that it was possibly the most idiotic one the paladin had ever heard in his life. "Nothing. I don't give a damn about any of you. So long as they keep it discreet I won't lift a finger to stop them."

Aleera stepped forward to protest almost immediately. "So that's it? You're just going to sit around and do nothing while they try to kill her?"

Sarah, however, did not appear surprised. Disappointed perhaps, resentful most certainly, but not surprised.

The Major's cold, uncaring gaze swiveled down toward the seated elf. "I believe that falls under the category of 'not my problem'. Deal with this yourself or die, it makes no difference to me." With that he turned and walked off toward the stairs leading up to the inn's rooms.

Tobias followed after him and as the two of them disappeared up the stairs the other convicts could hear the older man speak up. "If you do not care what happens to her then why did you stop me from killing her on the way here?"

"I don't care if any of you vermin die, that's what you're here for, I just did that so you would learn your place."

With the two older men gone Sarah sat back down at the table with her fellow convicts, letting out a tired sigh as she did.

In the silence that followed Carlos let his eyes wander about the room. It was late and the few patrons there had been were either filtering out of the inn or up the stairs to the rooms above. He was about to rise from his seat and call it a night when he spied something and though he nearly chalked it up to his eyes playing tricks on him to get back at him for not giving them the rest they were demanding, when his gaze snapped back to it he saw her.

A willowy, though otherwise exceedingly plain, woman who had not been there a moment before now sat at one of the tables near the one of the inn's side doors staring right back at him.

He blinked and the moment his eyes slid open again she was gone again.

After a moment he turned back toward the two women who sat with him, seeking some sort of reassurance that he was not simply seeing things. "Did you–"

"I saw it." Sarah said, still glaring askance at the table where the vanishing woman had sat.

"Who was that?"

"A hound of the Connla Syndicate, a trained killer sent to deal with troublemakers and incompetents." She shook her head. "Though if you wanted to know who exactly, I couldn't say. Most of the hounds are aggravatingly difficult to tell from one another. It took me quite a while to learn to tell Malakai apart from the others."

Aleera turned toward her, an eyebrow raised. "The Connla Syndicate?"

"They're kind of like a demonic cult, a secret society bent on world domination, a crime syndicate, and an army of the most draconian librarians in the realm all rolled into one. They maintain a monopoly on all things arcane in the Kingdom, including the people who wield it." Sarah smirked and let out a short, mirthless chuckle. "My old employers."

Carlos frowned. After working as hired muscle on the streets of Reaverholm for a few years he had become familiar with the name. From what he had gathered they were the biggest fish in the city's criminal pond and the top tier merchants and nobles in that hellhole all kowtowed to them or died sudden and brutal deaths. The inner workings of the group, however, remained just as much a mystery to the former farmer as they were to all the other mundane mercenaries who had, knowingly or not, done their bidding.

"And this Old Man and Jericho that Malakai mentioned," he asked, "how do they fit in?"

"Why must you two keep incessantly asking questions like a permanent magic mouth?" she snapped back at him. Then, after a pause and a long sigh, she answered though sounded clearly annoyed at having to. "Elcmar, or 'Old Man Elcmar' as some of us like to call him behind his back, is the current head of the Syndicate. Jericho is the higher-up in charge of the hounds and Elcmar's number two man."

"And somehow you got on their bad side," he said, not bothering to hide the smile on his face. "What a surprise."

She continued, pretending not to hear him or his scorn. "The Old Man thinks that the best medicine for failing minions is a nice head on a pike and now he wants mine." Her eyes settled on and narrowed at Carlos. "Probably because _someone_ couldn't handle basic guard duty."

"Don't try to blame this on me," he said, shooting her a retaliatory glower. "I'm not the one who brought a Royal Vandian sadist and a horde of Watch flunkies down on me and didn't bother to give the hired help a simple heads-up."

Before Sarah could shoot back Aleera cut in, curious, though more to stop the bickering than anything else. "What happened anyway? I've heard bits and pieces of how you two got here, but never the whole story."

"The Syndicate higher-ups saddled me with the job to whip up and run a shipment of opiates from Reaverholm into Vandia. I brought along some muscle, including Sir Buck-passer here, just in case things went south."

"Something tells me they did."

She nodded. "We were ambushed about a day's ride from Vandia by a Crusader and a gaggle of minions. He," she said jerking her thumb at Carlos, "went toe-to-toe with the Crusader while the other thugs I hired tried to deal with the Watch."

"I may be good," the warrior interjected, "but the Crusaders are in a league of their own." He glared accusingly at the drug runner. "_One-on-one_ I didn't stand a chance."

"Hey, don't look at me," she said, holding up her hands in protest. "I'm not the one who forgot the first rule of fighting those fanatics: Don't."

Carlos did not relent, however. "If you had bothered to help instead of trying, and failing I might add, to turn tail and run we would have had a chance."

"But that would involve running the risk of getting my face cracked open and, as appealing as that sounds, I think I'll pass."

"Remind me," he said through gritted teeth, "why I should help you this time around instead of just leaving you to get some well deserved comeuppance."

"Because you need me alive." She smiled haughtily back at him and stood up from the table. "Unless you'd rather leave it to that maniac Ladimor to watch your backs for the next two years, that is."

For that he had no counter and so all Carlos could do was sit and seethe in silence while Sarah continued to grin down at him.

Seeing him fume, Aleera placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him and nodded in the drug runner's direction. "She has a point."

"Of course I do." Sarah then turned and left the two behind, vanishing up the stairs to the inn's rooms.

The warrior's eyes narrowed as he watched her leave. "I just wish she wouldn't be so insufferably smug about it."

Aleera opened her mouth to respond, but her words died in her throat. She closed her mouth and simply nodded. After a moment, a painfully awkward silence descended upon the two. To end it, Carlos decided to give voice to something that had been trying to get his attention like a small child tugging at a parent's clothing.

"I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"What happened to you back at the Bellicosian camp?"

She looked a little startled by the question, as if unsure of exactly why he would ask it or what he meant by it. "What do you mean?"

"Something came over you."

As Carlos pressed onward, he couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that typically did not rear its head until a battle loomed on the horizon. He tried to ignore the sense of impending danger gnawing at the back of his mind. He was sitting in the mostly-deserted common room of a backwater inn talking to a friend, why would it be acting up now?

"You said 'Not now. Of all times, not now and not you!' and then you suddenly grew cold and distant. What happened?"

Aleera stared blankly back at him for a moment.

She blinked, and the eyes that opened a split second later were nothing like those that had slid shut.

"She will be safer with you gone."

Though he saw her speak the words, his mind could not connect the voice that now spoke to the woman he had first seen weeping in a cell. Every word was as sharp as the keenest of blades, was spoken with inhuman measure and precision, and as each of the syllables rolled off her tongue the temperature in the room seemed to drop markedly.

"What?" Carlos gaped at the sudden shift and was trying to process her words when the elf lunged at him.

For someone as slight as she was Aleera was freakishly strong and the sheer power hidden in her slender frame took him by complete surprise. One of her hands shot to his throat and pushed him back, tipping both him and the chair he was sitting in over. He slammed into the floor, her hand pinning his neck to the floorboards, and his eyes caught the familiar glint of steel as her other drew a long, curved dagger from a sheath on her belt.

The dagger screamed downward toward him, but Carlos managed to wriggle enough in the elf's grip to tilt his head to the side and move his eye out of the path of the descending blade. The dagger opened a shallow gash along the side of his face as it fell, slicing a line into his flesh that ran across his cheek, beginning just below and behind his left eye and taking a tiny section out of his earlobe as it passed.

By the time his mind registered the sound of the knife imbedding itself in the floorboard next to his head the rest of his body was already in motion. His arms, as if they had a will of their own, grabbed Aleera and lifted her up enough that one of his legs was able to rise and, with a sharp kick to the stomach, launch her off of him completely. Seizing his chance, he snatched up the knife, turning and brandishing it at her, as he scrambled to his feet.

"Aleera, what in the Nine Hells are y–"

The words caught in his throat. The face he now beheld was not one that he could think of as an enemy. If anything, the terrified woman was one he would normally have had a hard time raising his voice to let alone wielding a blade against.

She looked hurt, as if she were as shocked by this as he was. The eyes that gazed back at him were alight with fear and desperation, and Carlos could almost feel them silently begging him to say that it was all some terrible misunderstanding, that he wasn't actually holding her at dagger point and that there really was someone in this cruel world who cared for her.

He slowly lowered the knife as the urge to draw her into his arms and whisper gentle words of reassurance in her ears overrode his common sense. As if tugged by invisible strings, he closed what little distance remained between them.

"Gotcha."

Carlos stiffened. Partly from the bone-chillingly sinister tone that Aleera spoke in, partly from the frost that once again clung to her gaze, but mostly from the blade that was now buried in his side.

She gave the second dagger a sharp twist, shredding the tissue that had tightened around it, before yanking it free. He staggered back a few steps clutching the wound. She had stabbed him just under his left arm, bypassing the breastplate he wore and punching a hole clean through one of his lungs. The strength in his legs failed him and he collapsed backward, coughing violently as blood poured into his ruptured lung.

Scooping up and sheathing the first dagger, Aleera advanced toward him, the blade she held dripping fresh blood. His blood.

And then she stopped.

He dragged his eyes away from the blade and glanced at her face. It was a veritable battlefield of emotions, with sorrow, rage, concern and fear all clashing at once on her sharp elven features. She shook her head from side to side, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted, as if trying to cast something off. Her other hand rose and gripped the side of her forehead, her nails digging in hard enough to draw blood.

"No!" she hissed from between clenched teeth. "Stay out of this, I'm not done yet!"

Carlos barely had a moment to contemplate the bizarre demand before her eyes snapped open again.

The dagger slipped from her grasp as her hold on it loosened and it clattered to the floor, forgotten. The color drained from her face and the hand that had gripped the side of her head slid over her gapping mouth as she stared down with a look of horror on her face.

In an instant she was at his side, a soft green glow emanating from her outstretched hands. "Oh Gods! I'm sorry!" Beneath the divine energy that leapt from her palms, the wound in Carlos' side quickly knitted itself shut. "I­ didn't mean to–"

Her frantic apologies where cut short when one of the warrior's hands rose and struck the side of her head hard enough to send her sprawling across the floorboards.

The wound in his side no longer hindering him, Carlos rose to his feet.

He scooped up the dagger that Aleera had dropped and turned to face her. She looked back up at him with wide, fearful eyes, petrified by the utter lack of humanity on the human's face.

She was not his friend, he told himself. She was the enemy, a threat to be eliminated. She had played him and it had nearly cost him his life, he wasn't about to let her do it a second time. No more pity, no more sympathy, no more compassion. Not for her.

He took a step toward her, blood-coated dagger at the ready.

In an instant the elf scrambled backward, clambering to her feet and bolting from the inn out onto the darkened streets in a panic.

The dumbstruck eyes of the remaining patrons, who had sat and watched the entire scene unfold in bewildered silence, followed her out the door then swung back to stare at him, each looking for an answer that no one, especially not Carlos, possessed. The rhythm that guided his actions faded into the background and as his mind slowly retook control of his body he realized that he was suddenly the center of attention, a role he had never relished.

He tried to meet their gazes with a defiant glare of his own, as if to challenge each and every one of them, though that was made nigh impossible by the number of observers and the simple fact that he had absolutely no idea what in the Nine Hells had just happened. After a moment he relented and let out an aggravated sigh, choosing instead to tromp up the stairs out of the inn's common room.

He flung open the door to the room he had been saddled with and stormed in, mumbling to himself and slamming the door behind him. "A sadistic control freak who thinks a bad childhood justifies all the atrocities he has committed, a murderous psychopath with the most twisted sense of fair play in the realm, an infuriating loudmouth with enemies in all the wrong places, and now this!" He unbuckled his boots, pulled them off, tossed them into a corner of the room and did the same for the breastplate he wore before collapsing onto the bed he had claimed as his own. "Am I the only normal person here?"

"No." Tobias, who sat on the sill of the room's open window sharpening his short sword, answered the rhetorical question without glancing up from his work.

"Well who else do you think is normal? You?" He glared over at the serial killer and let out a short, mocking scoff. "Don't make me laugh, I've scrapped things off my boots that were more human than you."

At that the older man paused and looked up at him, a knowing smile on his face, before chuckling softly. "That is not what I meant."

"Then speak plainly."

"I do." Tobias went back to sharpening the short sword and his gaze followed suite. "It is not my fault that you fail to grasp the meaning of my words."

Carlos chose to ignore the man's words and stared up at the ceiling, thinking back on Aleera's actions since he had met her. At times she had been a frightened child like the one he had seen in the cell when he first laid eyes on her. At other times she had been a cold and ruthless murderer like the one who had butchered the Bellicosians and nearly done the same to him. At yet others she had been calm, compassionate, and entirely in control of her surroundings.

"Gods, I'm surrounded by maniacs," he mumbled absentmindedly as he ran his fingers along the gash in his cheek, which would no doubt soon join the collection of scars he had been slowly accumulating.

Once again Tobias gave an offhand and unwelcome reply. "Wonderful, is it not?"

Only half hearing the question, the warrior's mind pressed onward. The last thing he needed was yet another lunatic out for his blood, and judging by her actions as of late Aleera was as insane as they came.

But it wasn't that simple, now was it? When he managed to turn the tables on her she just stared back at him as if _he_ had betrayed _her_ instead of the other way around, waiting for him to drop his guard. Yes, he thought, she was dangerous, perhaps even more so than The Major or Tobias. At least they didn't have a disarming veneer to hide behind until you slipped up and gave them a golden opportunity to slit your throat.

The more he brooded, the more he loathed both the elf and himself, her for playing him for a fool and himself for falling for her 'damsel in distress' façade hook, line, and sinker just as he had with Sarah.

It made him nauseous to think that he had actually wanted to help her.

But now he knew what he was up against. Now he knew to treat her with the same amount of trust and compassion as the other members of their murderous little band. She certainly deserved much worse for her treachery.

He turned on his side away from the window, snuffed out the candle that lay on the small table next to the bed, and in the dim half-light that shrouded the room tried to get some sleep.

* * *

Not ten feet from where the warrior lay, Sarah sat on one of the two beds in the room she and Aleera had claimed as their own, her nose in one of the few books that she had at the time of her capture.

Any normal person would have been startled when an eagle sailed in out of the night through the open window about an hour after the wizard had retired to the room. Sarah, however, could not have been farther from the word had the two been on different planes and thus was intrigued not by the bird's entry but rather its state as it did so.

The landing was clumsy at best and the bird barely managed to remain on its feet as it stumbled forward before shakily coming to a halt. Its body twisted and contorted as it grew from a dejected looking eagle into an equally dejected looking elf. Sarah watched her cross over to sink down onto her own bed, her hair hanging down in front of her face, hiding it from view.

Her curiosity piqued, she closed the book and regarded the druidess. "Are you alright?"

Aleera looked up as if she had only noticed her just then. "What?" Her eyes were tinged red and her cheeks were faintly flushed, leaving no doubt in Sarah's mind that the other woman had been crying.

"You look like you just saw your favorite kitten get run over by an ox cart." The tiniest glimmer of concern flickered across her face. "What's wrong?"

Looking back down at her feet, Aleera managed to mumble "Nothing."

The modicum of compassion that Sarah had mustered vanished. "You'll forgive me if I don't buy that."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Suit yourself," the wizard said with a shrug as she stood up. "If you want to curl up and sob yourself to sleep that's your right." Her eyes narrowed at the elf, looking down on her in both senses of the phrase. "Just do it quietly."

She stood up off her bed and went about the room, first to the door then the window, closing and locking both before muttering something under her breath. Each pulsed with a soft amber glow before dimming again, bringing a faint smile to her face.

Only half caring, Aleera mumbled, her eyes still fixed on her own feet, "You seem rather calm considering there are people out to kill you."

"That's nothing new," she said with an indifferent wave of a hand, "there are always people out to kill me. It comes with the job and you get used to it after a while, usually after the third or fourth time someone tries to slit your throat in your sleep. The trick is to not worry so much and love your life while you still have it."

Aleera let out a mirthless chuckle, trying desperately to tear her mind from recent events and instead focus them on what she saw as irony in Sarah's words. "Says the person who railed against carelessness not long ago."

"There is a big difference between being careful and being serious. The former keeps you alive while the second makes life not worth living. I can be careful without being like Buck-passer or Holier-than-thou."

Again she went about the room, this time extinguishing the candles that lit it. "I wonder who those three are," she mused aloud, smiling and casting her gaze out the window and into the darkness beyond. "Probably Garrick, Evelyn and Tanith if they could get him to stop hiding behind Jericho for once."

Startled by the familiarity with which she spoke the names, Aleera looked over at her again. "Wait, the people who are coming to kill you were your friends?"

Sarah's head whipped around and she merely stared at the other woman in a strange cross between shock and bewilderment for a moment before she burst out laughing. "Friends?" she managed to choke out between guffaws. "Oh no, Gods no." She sighed as she steadied herself and quashed her sudden mirth. "It's a crime syndicate, everyone is trying to kill everyone else and any gesture of friendship is usually just a prelude to attempted murder. After all, you have to be behind someone before you can stab them in the back."

One of Aleera's eyebrows rose at this, though she seemed less than convinced. "Malakai seemed willing to help you, even when he could turn you in for a reward."

The wizard thought on that for a moment, then nodded. "Yes," she said with a sly grin, "though personally I think his 'help' is simply an attempt to curry enough favor to get me back in his bed."

Forgetting her own woes for a merciful moment, Aleera regarded her with newfound curiosity. "Is there no one you actually trust?"

Sarah's smile evaporated, her mood swiftly turning dour as she pondered the question. She turned to gaze down at the last candle that vainly struggled to beat back the darkness that threatened to smother the room and lifted the small metal dish on which it rested up off the table. The melted wax that had collected in it shifted as she did and the tendril of flame flickered, as if protesting. She did nothing but stare at the burning wick, for which she could not help but feel a strange sense of kinship, in silence. Her hand slowly rose from her side and cupped the flame as one would the cheek of a loved one.

"No, and that is why I am still alive."

She blew out the candle.

* * *

Long after the last of the lights in the inn had been snuffed out, a pair of shadows that stood atop the building across the street were joined by a third, one that bore ill tidings.

"What do you mean she knows?" one of the figures, a man with an unpleasantly gruff tone, asked.

"I mean someone must have tipped her off that we are here." The newcomer, a woman by her voice and build, motioned in the direction of the inn. "When I went in to scope the target it was obvious that she was already on the lookout for us."

"We should return and inform Jericho," the third, a man with a smoother, more serpentine voice, interjected. "If she still has contacts in the Syndicate we could be walking into a trap."

"No," the first said. "We go ahead as planned, it doesn't matter if she knows we're coming or not."

"You mean you go ahead as planned," shot back the third. "It's your plan, not mine, and I don't take orders from you, Garrick."

"Well aren't you clever?" He turned toward the newcomer. "I guess that means we only have to split the reward two ways. Let's go."

Dropping down off the roof of the building on which they stood and leaving their comrade behind, the two swiftly and silently crossed over to the inn and scaled the side of the building with ease and speed better befitting a spider than a human. They came to a halt outside a window on the second floor and knelt before it. The act should have sent them both tumbling to the ground below, yet the shadowy man and woman remained adhered to the wall as if they were nailed there.

The woman slid a pair of goggles down over her eyes and gazed through the window into the room beyond. She raised one of her hands and made a number of gestures with it, motions and signs who's meaning was unintelligible to most but as plain as day to the man who knelt on the wall next to her.

'Standard setup. Arcane locks on the window and door. Overlapping alarms inside, one silent one audible.'

The man nodded and removed from a pouch on his belt a silvery metal tube and tapped it against the side of the inn. A soft click came from the window as the mundane lock flipped opened and the soft aura surrounding it that the lenses revealed faded from sight. Returning the tube to its home, he slowly eased the window open and plucked a slender from wand from yet another pouch. With a gentle flick of the wrist, the aura that pervaded the room weakened and after another vanished completely.

The two slipped into the darkened room, each drawing a flame-charred dagger as they neared the bed where their target lay.


End file.
